My Final Mistake
by xRandomestx
Summary: Waking up in the 15th Century isn't exactly something you can prepare yourself for. Meeting a famous painter, saving lives and becoming a part of something more important than time itself even more so. With a strange voice in her head and a skilled Assassin by her side, Jessica must figure out what it is that she must do and who she must become.
1. Prologue

**Hello there! **

**Welcome to the new and improved My Final Mistake!**

**I have spent many hours going over this, my favourite and most successful story and I am very excited to be back on FanFiction so many months/years later to present this to you. Now, I must warn you that I have made quite a few changes to the story. Not big things, mind you, the story line is pretty much exactly as it was previously, but I have taken out a few things that I found are going no where or that I believe are kind of silly.  
**

**Even so, I hope that you love this upgraded version of My Final Mistake just as much as the 35,000+ of you loved it before.**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

There was blood. So much blood. The thick, red liquid of life that when exposed too greatly to the outside world brought nothing but death.

I couldn't figure whether it was her's or my own.

It was everywhere; the thick, heavy, encroaching darkness. I tried so hard to stay awake, but I couldn't. I couldn't breathe.

My mother was screaming at her to stop, that she was going to kill me. But my sister just squeezed tighter. There were tears in her brown eyes, they rolled halfway down her cheeks before falling down to my body and mixing with her blood…or was it mine? I couldn't tell.

I didn't fight. I didn't fight my sister's choking hands, her harsh, agonizingly true words, her scratches, her strikes…her knife in my stomach. That's where most of the blood was coming from. There was blood flowing from my sister's arm as well, where she had sliced herself in her haste to stab me. I had barely felt the pain. There was nothing but acceptance and a feeling that everything was wrong in the world.

It shouldn't have been him. The car shouldn't have hit him.

I could hardly see anything anymore, and the light hurt my eyes so I closed them. I didn't want to see her face. She looked so much like him.

I could faintly feel the tight clenching feeling of my lungs screaming for air, could feel the cold hand of death spreading throughout my body. I barely noticed when the constricting hands disappeared from around my neck. It didn't make any difference. I was too far gone.

Without my sister's hands holding my neck and head in place, it flopped limply to one side. My eyes fluttered as every bell and whistle in my mind screamed in panic, sending out desperate messages to my heart and lungs, pleading with them to not give up.

I could hear my mother and sister screaming, could hear my mother's struggle to hold her oldest daughter back, my sister's screams; "It's all your fault! He never should've died! It should've been you!"

My eyes opened all the way as time seemed to slow. Their screams became mere background noise, dull and monotonous as her words tore at my heart. My clouded mind registered nothing but the pain…and then, a solid, clunking sound, like a metal ball, bouncing toward me. It hit the ground once…twice…and then, on the third hit, it rolled across the ground to a halt less than an arm's length away.

It was a golden sphere, with an elaborate pattern engraved into the exterior, and what seemed to be a bright golden light, glowing from within. It sang to me, and my panicked mind was silenced, and the ice in my chest disappeared. With all of the little strength I had left, I reached my dead-weighted arm out, and laid my hand on its cool surface.

As my sight began to fade for the last time, I saw as the sphere started to glow even brighter than before, felt as it grew hotter and hotter until a searing pain spread through my hand and up my arm.

The pain was the last thing I felt. The golden light was the last thing I saw. "Tommy…" was the name that filled my last breath.

My little buddy.

My little brother.

My final mistake.


	2. Chapter 1

I floated around in the nothingness, my mind registering nothing and everything all at once. I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or shut, whether I was standing up or lying down, whether I was dead or alive.

I could however, tell that I was no longer being choked by my sister, could tell that I was no longer in my house, could no longer hear my mother's screams, could no longer feel the pain. On the outside at least. I felt broken and dirty. I felt empty and numb. I felt like a stranger in my own body. Nothing seemed real.

One moment I was floating bout in the nothingness, and then an intense golden light blinded me. I clenched my eyes shut against the beams and turned my head to the side, bringing my hands up in front of my face. The light intensified and I stared into the red of my eyelids in mounting confusion. I opened one eye in a squint, and a short burst of air flew from my lungs in surprise as my eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

I could actually feel my brain sending thousands of messages to my left hand, asking it if it was burning like my eyes told me it was, but my hand said 'no'. If hands can even do that.

My hand, my palm was glowing a brilliant gold, and was feeling unnaturally warm. But it didn't hurt; didn't even tingle.

I closed my left hand gently into a fist, and though the light dimmed slightly as my fingers obstructed my view of it, the light shone out in thin streams of pure gold through the gaps between the digits. I opened and closed my fist twice more before my mind registered that my surroundings were slowly changing.

I let my glowing hand drop back to my side as I looked around at the…marketplace? That seemed to be painting itself around me. I heard the cobblestones laying themselves down and joining together to form the streets, heard the red tiles clinking together as they slid into their places on the roofs of the tall buildings around me, I saw the people forming together, starting out as pale, human shaped blobs; faceless, featureless, and then forming slowly, like a artist sketching a face, and then clothes, and then colouring the entire thing. Completely realistic, completely real. Dozens of individual people walked around, laughing and chatting and shopping.

I turned a slow circle on the spot, gaping at the sounds, the smells of fresh fruit and vegetables and heavy perfume and wine. My breaths felt heavy in my bruised chest as I felt the round, smooth cobblestones under my feet; felt the fresh air blowing gently across my face and lifting the lighter strands of my brown hair to float softly around my head.

The wind blew through the many tiny gaps in the fibres of my shirt, causing a shiver to run down my spine and sending tingles up through nerves in my neck. I completed my circle and was left facing a giant rectangular shaped building made from thick stone bricks. The large gate that seemed to be blocking the entrance into a courtyard lined with beautiful climbing vines and stone benches for relaxing at a long days end.

_It's a palazzo._ I started at the information that seemed to just pop into my head. Relaying said information in a voice which was not my own.

"Palazzo." I formed the word with my lips, but let no sound escape.

A frown was etched onto my face and my blue eyes could not stay settled on one spot. I shook my head slightly, closing my eyes and sighing through my nose. My heart was beating too fast, my breaths were too shallow, my head spun. This couldn't be right. This couldn't be real.

"Marietta."

A strange, unattached recognition arose in my mind, and my eyes shot open and all I saw was brown. A deep, confident, vain, caramel brown, lined with long dark lashes. Smooth, mostly unblemished olive skin, plump, red painted lips and thick, luscious raven hair which shone almost purple in the afternoon sun. For a long moment I was stunned by a strange sense of familiarisation; I knew those eyes. The beautiful young woman turned her gaze to me and I blushed, embarrassed to have been caught staring. She seemed incredibly amused and I cleared my sore, scratchy throat awkwardly, raising a hand to the bruises which were no doubt showing red, black and blue against my pale skin in the shape of my sister's long, strong fingers. She smiled then, and in that moment, a confusing realisation hit me; she's not smiling at me. That was impossible, however, as I was standing right in front of her, obstructing the view of most people behind me. Yet still, she was not smiling at me, not looking at me. In fact it didn't even seem as if she was acknowledging my existence at all. After a moment of moving my head distractingly and even going as far as to poke out my tongue in my effort to catch her attention, I stumbled back a step. I choked a laugh at the ridiculous impossibility of it all, feeling slightly hysterical. "She can't see me. You can't see me," I told her. "Why… why can't you…"

This must be a dream, it all must just be a dream.

The woman continued to stare straight through me, but the smile had fallen from her face and the amusement had faded from her eyes. She stood, still and statuesque and suddenly looking very, frighteningly empty.

"Signorina Marietta, are you alright?" My attention was turned to an olive skinned Italian man, young, with shoulder-length dark brown hair, a strong, clean shaven jaw and smiling eyes, maybe a year older than the girl, walking up to her side and shaking her shoulder gently. "Marietta?" He shook her shoulder again before he frowned in confusion.

"_Lei può sentirmi?"_ the man asked her, concern in his deep, accented voice. My thoughts plunged suddenly at the deep, masculine tone, and my younger brother's hazel eyes filled my mind. He would never go through puberty. He never got the chance.

Swallowing at the lump in my throat, and clenching my jaw to squash the overwhelming sense of self-loathing which arose, threatening to send me spiralling into a pool of darkness and hate, I suddenly registered that the man was stepping around toward me to stand in front of the woman, Marietta, in the spot right upon which I was standing. My muscles clenched automatically for the impact but none came. Instead, the man stepped into me.

And then he was everywhere, I could feel the warmth of his skin; could feel the air flowing in and out of his lungs as he breathed, could feel the strong muscles in his arms as he lifted them and placed them on Marietta's shoulders, could feel his heart pumping powerfully in his chest.

I could hear his thoughts, but not understand them. They seemed to be in a different language. Italian, I recognised. My grandfather was Italian, though new little of the language himself which was a real shame.

It wasn't just thoughts; memories flew past me like a stormy wind, mixing with each other, swirling, floating. I could hear him. I was in him. I was him.

I wanted out.

My heart began beating faster as adrenaline flooded into my bloodstream. I was panicked, I was scared, and I was hopelessly confused. I lunged forward and felt my invisible self flood out of his chest. The momentum shot me forward.

This is a dream. This is all just a dream. It has to be. Things like this don't happen, I yelled in my mind.

I fell into Marietta, expecting a flood of memories, of thoughts, but there was nothing. Instead, there was me. I felt it as everything that was me, spread throughout Marietta's body, taking over, re-wiring to suit my feelings, my wants, my needs. I felt it as the 'me' spread through Marietta's veins, through her tendons and muscles and her nerves, making them mine.

The entire process took half the time it would take a person to blink.

Marietta's… My shoulders slumped and she—I took a sharp breath in. I blinked my now long-lashed eyes, and suddenly, I was looking out of them, straight into the brown eyes of the man.

I switched my gaze between his two eyes, flicking rapidly between the two in a kind of shocked horror. My chest, attempting to flutter up and down merely decided to just let my breasts do the work as they were the only things that could actually move. This corset, or bodice or whatever the heck it was called, was choking me. I couldn't breathe. My mind clouded and terror took over. I could feel cold hands around my throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. I could hear a woman screaming, could feel the warm sticky blood pooling underneath me. Could see the darkness coming.

"Marietta?" I barely heard him. I clenched and unclenched my hands, dimly registering how much smaller they were to my…my old hands. I stared wide eyed at the man's white clothed chest, small, quick breaths shooting in and out of my mouth. How? How? How? How?

"Marietta?!" the man said more forcefully. My gaze shot up and I fixed him in a frightened stare.

"I'm not Marietta." I choked. His frown deepened in confusion before my mind clouded in terror again.

His hands. They were closing in on my neck. He was going to strangle me. He watched in confusion as I stepped closer to him, grabbed his own shoulders, and then brought my knee up hard and fast. He keeled over in pain, groaning, and as he did, my knee came up again and this time connected with his nose. The man fell onto his back on the cobblestone street.

"_Cazzo_, Marietta!" he groaned through his teeth, his hands over his nose and his eyes squeezed shut in pain.

Panting slightly, I looked up from him and at the small crowd that had gathered around us, murmuring and whispering and staring with confused, amused and judgemental eyes. I looked from left to right, blood pumping hard through my body, making everything hot and confused and overwhelming. I grabbed a handful of the skirt of my dress, spun around, and ran for it.

I ran and ran until I tripped and stumbled stupidly into the side of a building where I stopped, pressing my forehead to the cool wall and took several deep, calming breaths. I turned lethargically and made my way over to an empty bench, my head down and trying with all of my might to block out the strange new world around me. I violently readjusted the skirts of my dress so that I was more comfortable. There was so much damn fabric.

Where am I? was the question swirling around in my lowered head. I frowned down at her—my – hands where they rested in my lap. They were so much smaller than before, and my fingers were so slender and long. My nails were no longer chewed half to death, but pink, smooth and long. The now very girly hands were shaking terribly, as was the rest of my body—but it wasn't my body. It was her's. Where was Marietta?

I searched around in my head, trying to find any trace of her, but there was nothing. Was she dead? Had I killed her? Or was she in my old body? In which case she would be dead anyway. My hand came up to cup around my neck, where I rubbed it softly and was surprised to feel that the bruises were still there, which seemed entirely impossible and yet, there they were. I felt around my stomach, searching for the tell tale torrent of red which would indicate that the gaping knife wound had also been transferred over but I couldn't feel anything through the corset which felt to be made of actual whale-bone. I wondered at the slimness of Marietta's waist and the amount of breast she was endowed with, far less than I had previously in my own body, which wasn't exactly a bad thing. My own body… I stopped, my hands falling to my – Marietta's – lap.

I was murdered by my sister. I'm dead. I must be. And now I'm here, in someone else's body. I honestly can't decide what's worse.

My nose tickled as tears began to roll their way down my cheeks. My breaths shortened and my hand moved from my lap to my mouth as I tried to stifle the sobs. How was I supposed to cope with this?

I could feel the eyes of the people as they passed by, all staring confusedly at the sobbing girl on the stone bench. I could hear their concerned murmurs, but no one came to console me. I wrapped my arms around myself as I cried, and found that it was also very hard to cry and breathe all while wearing a stupid corset. It was incredibly uncomfortable.

I sat there on that bench for hours after I stopped crying, watching the shadows of the buildings and people stretch further and further along the dirty cobble street. The people grew fewer and fewer as night began to fall, and finally, the streets were empty. A chilly wind pricked at the bare skin of my arms, neck and shoulders and I shivered. I could feel the cramp in my neck and shoulders, a result of spending way too long looking down.

I felt empty inside, numb and exhausted and as if I would never move from this spot again.

The moon shone high in the sky. I could hear laughter and yelling from a pub somewhere to my right, a long way off and it had gotten colder. I was shivering constantly now, my whole body shaking.

_You need to get warm._

The voice startled me, the surprise seemingly jumpstarting my heart. My eyes flickered across the ground and my neck creaked as I turned it very slightly from side to side, looking for the shoes belonging to the person who had spoken.

_You're going to get sick._

My lips parted and I returned to my original position. "I don't care." I barely whispered, wincing at the cold air slicing down my windpipe and into my chest.

_We know. But we do._

My eyebrow twitched, my forehead attempting to pull into a frown. "Why?"

_Suddenly, Tommy's face flashed before my eyes. His grey eyes were wide and terrified, his mouth open in a silent scream, his little hand reached out for me as I dived forward, reaching for him as my heart leaped to my throat in horror. _

No. I tried forcing the memory away, but there was a wall.

_I heard Tommy screaming my name, felt my lips part to scream his…and then everything went red. There was the sound of a blaring car horn, the screech of tyres, and then a slowing heartbeat…boom boom….boom boom…boom…boom…._

_The sound of a machine flat lining. _

I fell sideways from the bench, curling up into a ball and cradling my head, trying not to scream. Tears streaked down my face as I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, desperately trying to block it out.

_And then, there was another sound; my older sister Jasmin screaming at me, pounding on me with her fists. I took the blows. Her face was wild, her cheeks red and her lips pulled back over her teeth as she plunged the knife into my stomach. I collapsed to my knees, feeling the blood run down my legs before she shoved me back, straddling me, and then taking my neck between her hands. And all the while, my mother stood pressed against the wall, her hands over her face, screaming at Jasmin to stop but never moving to actually make her. Not until it was too late._

My hands moved to my neck. I could feel her fingers there, could feel the tips of her nails digging in, my neck beaded with blood. My eyes rolled back in my head…

_Forget, _the voice whispered sharply.

All at once, my mind went black.


	3. Chapter 2

I woke up the next morning a new person. Literally.

After falling off of the bench with a surprised scream, and a short confused look around at the changes that had been applied to my bedroom and the people in it, I remembered what had happened. Or tried to.

My mind was a complete blank. The last thing I could remember was walking home from school with my little brother Tommy. I remember me saying something about this new computer game I had just bought and him grinning like the little boy he was, and then… nothing.

Weird.

I picked myself off the ground and analysed the situation. I was in a place which looked suspiciously European, with suspiciously European-looking people walking around. This all seemed very strange. Even I felt strange. I looked down at my arms, and checked out my hair. Olive skin, black hair. Yes, this all seemed in order. Except it didn't. I stood for a long moment thoughtfully, but could not for the life of me decide why that was. So, I shrugged it off and checked out my own clothing instead. A dress. Curious.

I didn't actually own too many dresses and definitely none even almost as elaborately gorgeous as the one I was wearing. The dark red skirt ruffled out around me, laced with what looked to me like gold thread, and had dark green swirls through it. The corset was joined with the skirt… somewhere. I could feel that it was two separate pieces but on the outside, it seemed like one. It was incredibly beautiful, yet entirely impractical. I wondered where the nearest shop was. I needed some pants.

But not those, I thought critically, eying a rather large man wearing what looked like dark blue leggings underneath a fancy tunic and brown boots. I cringed. A jingle on my hip brought me to the attention of a small green pouch, attached to a rope tied around my waist. I sat seated on the stone bench as I tugged it from the rope and tugged the little green bag open and peered inside.

Around fifty or so gold coins shone up at me. Eyes growing wide, I reached in and picked one up. On one side a fleur-de-lis and on the other, the depiction of a saint holding a sceptre. This… this looked like a bona fide Italian florin. These were worth around two hundred dollars apiece! I quickly dropped the coin back in the bag and shut it tight, looking around at the crowds warily. Where did I get this? Why did I have it? Why couldn't I remember? I returned it to the rope around my waist, and began wandering down the street.

I began to walk slower and slower as I took in more of the city. It was all so foreign; I had never seen anything like it; the people, the clothes, the dresses, their hats, their hairstyles.

The more I looked, the more I felt as if I'd seen these things before, in a book or on the computer or something. Was it medieval? I shook my head to myself. No, they didn't look British; the people were all too tanned, too exotic. Maybe, the Renaissance then? I licked my lips, realising what this meant.

I was in one of those crazy villages. The ones with the people who refuse to accept today's technology, who enjoy the simple hardworking life to the easy, fast paced one everyone else has moved onto. So, I got kidnapped? That made sense.

_You have not been kidnapped,_ a voice said, startling me.

I stopped walking and looked around. Nobody was looking at me as if they wished to hold a conversation, so where did the voice come from? Suddenly, my left thumb felt as if it were being slit open. I hissed in pain and lifted it to my eyes. My mouth dropped open and I frowned, my eyes wide. On my palm, not centred but more over the muscle of my thumb, was a dark gold circle with sharp lines designed into it. As I tilted my hand back and forward, the circle seemed to shimmer. Did they tattoo me as well?

Man, these people really are crazy. I closed my hand, blinking in confusion as I had a flash of a pale hand in the same position, except for a bright gold light emitting from the fist. The vision disappeared as I blinked again. Whose hand was that? I shook myself and put it from my mind. Did they drugged me too?

I returned to my search, ignoring the pain. It didn't take long for me to come across a market place; it was right next to the gallows. I looked at the bloodstained wood, and the lonely ropes, swinging slightly in the wind. I stared for a long moment, wondering if they were still aloud to hang people in crazy towns such as this. I shuddered and paid –in florins, which I had decided couldn't possibly be real – the man who gazed at me curiously through his thick black beard.

"_Grazie_." Slipped through my lips as I took the clothes and leather boots that folded down at the top and walked away briskly, aiming to get as far away from that place of death as possible. A funny feeling was swirling around in my stomach, and I didn't like it. "I've a feeling I'm not in Australia anymore…" I murmured to myself, inspecting the outfit I had purchased. I planted my butt on a wooden crate just sitting there on the side of the road and unwrapped the string and hessian cloth, tucking it beneath my leg as I let the tunic free. It was black with white embroidery around the hem, and was clearly designed to be quite…revealing, but that's what the white linen shirt was for. I looked critically then at the black pants. They were very skinny and would undoubtedly be very tight as well; if it weren't for the thickness of the material, I would have thought they were leggings. Interesting.

Now came the next problem; getting changed. It wasn't like I had a house to go to, and I'm not sure if public toilets even existed back in whatever time these people were trying to recreate.. So what? I'd just get changed in an alley? No way!

Apparently, I didn't have to worry all that much, the answer came to me as I sat there with my clothes in my lap and a confused, worried look on my face as I tried to figure out what I could do.

"Signorina Marietta? Is that you?" I looked up in confusion to see a kindly looking man wearing a red beret and cape, with very dark blonde shoulder length hair. After stepping toward me, his narrowed blue eyes relaxed and he smiled, seemingly relieved.

"Oh! It is you! Madonna Maria said that Federico was absolutely livid when he couldn't find you yesterday!" My eyebrows rose slightly higher than before and the man must have mistaken my 'WTF-is-he-going-on-about-and-should-I-be-scared?' face for my 'oh-shiat-really?' face. "But not with you my dear!" he quickly assured me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "He is angry with himself. He thinks he has upset you somehow and in turn, now he is upset! But I am sure you two will patch up whatever argument you have had this time, you always do." His smile seemed to grow wider and he winked.

My eyebrows fell back down in confusion and "Uhhhh…" was all that came out of my mouth. Seemingly oblivious my obvious confusion, he began picking up all my newly bought clothes and packing them neatly on top of the box of blank canvases he was carrying.

"Now, we should really get you home before your mother discovers that you have been wandering about without a chaperone!" He picked up my boots and started walking briskly off down the street, leaving me there still going, "Uhhhh…" so intelligently. Then, my brain kick-starting at the fact that my three-quarters of a pouch full worth of brand new clothes were disappearing into the crowd along with a long red cape I leapt to my feet and tripped after him, forgetting to hold up my dress. Who was this guy?

"Hey! Wait up!" I called out, frustrated as I tried to get through the increasing crowd. The man either couldn't hear me or was just ignoring me. "Excuse me! Pardon me! Excuse me!" I said over and over again as I slipped through the people, standing on my tiptoes, straining to see over people's heads. Considering how short I was it didn't help much. Soon I lost sight of him in the crowd.

"Shit." I whispered looking around. "That dick's got my clothes."

"Marietta!" came a call. Who the hell is Marietta? Wait, didn't red beret guy call me that? I turned toward the shout and saw him standing in a doorway waving madly at me. I nodded, sighing in relief and frustration as I began pushing and shoving people out of my way to reach him, ignoring the protests and dodging the angry shoves I got back. Glowering, I took my clothes from the top of his box and tucked them securely under my arm as he grinned at me. "I'll not take a moment, Signorina. Please," he swung open the heavy wooden door, using only one hand and gestured for me to enter, "_Entrare_."

I looked at him for a moment, incomprehensively.

Entrar-é ? Entr. Enter? Oh. Duh. I stepped inside cautiously and stopped on the rising to appreciate what I saw. Covering the majority of the back wall were bookshelves filled to burst.

On the tables in the middle of the room were piles of papers, various feathered quills, ink pots, more books, and impressive little sculptures.

"Is this your…?" I asked as he closed the door behind us, bustling past me to place the box of canvases on one of the desks. I noticed a large fireplace in the wall to the left.

"My workplace. My place of thoughts and ideas. Of failures and successes," he looked sheepishly at me then, "There are not very many of those, I must admit."

I raised my eyebrows looking around, trying to take everything in. It was incredibly homely and warm and inviting and I could barely fight the urge to inspect the multitude of books before me. Descending several short stairs in the room, I subtly began running my eyes over the paper, which upon closer inspection looked thicker, more like parchment which seemed to be covered in sketches and drawings and… mirror writing?

"Are you alright, Signorina?" I was startled by the sound of his voice as my confused and curious mind began buzzing. He sounded nervous as I turned my eyes back to him.

"Hmm?" I asked, confused, standing there with my clothes under my arm and my boots in my hand.

"Are you ill?" he asked, wringing his hands.

I frowned, "Um, no, I don't think so. Why?"

"It is only…" he coughed awkwardly, "You seem… different."

I blinked slowly at him, tense, "I am. Different."

He stared steadily at me a long moment not looking at all like he believed it and then shook himself, an expression coming to his face which gave me the impression that he thought I was screwing with him. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile onto his face and walking off to another room to the right, past a staircase to the upper floor, calling as he went, "I shall fetch something for you to drink, I think. Make yourself at home, Signorina," and then he disappeared into the depths of his home.

I stood awkwardly, trying desperately to figure out if I had ever met him before, why he thought my name was Marietta, and why the sketches and writing on the parchment seemed so darn familiar. He returned with a pitcher of water, two cups and two slices of bread with jam on a platter and placed it on the table beside me, gesturing to it invitingly with a smile as he offered me a stool. I thanked him and sat, quickly devouring the bread and almost inhaling the water, realising that I quite literally could not remember the last time I had eaten. As I relaxed, the man skittered about, reading a passage from a book and then hurrying over to add to a sketch and then moving onto scribble in a journal and then back to the book again and so on, which I watched with growing amusement. He seemed like a lovely, thoughtful and quiet man, who didn't seem to not like me, but who was certainly afraid of me. Why that was I had absolutely no clue for I was certain that I had never met him before. I turned over what information I had gathered thus far in my mind.

I awoke on a stone bench with no memory of how I got there, in a town I wasn't familiar with, which was possibly an Italian Renaissance recreation town surely somewhere still in Australia, where I had now met this strange man who addressed me by the name Marietta. Which isn't my name. I was alone and confused and quite frankly, a little bit scared. And so, I decided to make a friend.

"My name isn't Marietta."

The man stopped from where he was writing and stared up at me with a single eyebrow raised, "What do you mean?"

I wiped my mouth and brushed a few stray crumbs from the lap of my dress, "My name isn't Marietta."

He looked me up and down then, as if I had suddenly lost my mind. He chuckled, "Of course you are! I have known you for several years now, Signorina. I would recognise you anywhere."

I frowned and shook my head, "No, you haven't. I don't know who you are. I've never met you before."

He looked at me strangely, "Are you trying to confuse me, Signorina? If you are I have to say it is unamusing and quite childish."

"I'm not lying. I have no idea who you are or where I am. And I am not Marietta." I spoke seriously to him, trying to express the full severity of my words without jumping to my feet, flipping a table and jumping out the window, screaming as I went.

There was a window on the back wall of his workshop, but the sunlight streaming from it didn't reach any further than the hem of my dress, which, might I add was covered in dirt.

The man was surrounded by light, however, and the thin strands of his hair shone a brilliant gold while his beret and cape looked redder than blood.

_Blood. So much blood. _

The strange thought came from nowhere, and I quickly shook off odd feeling that accompanied it, focussing on keeping eye contact with the man, silently pleading with him to believe me. His eyes searched mine for a long moment, completely unamused, disbelieving and increasingly exasperated. Then, they widened.

"Your eyes," he gasped. "I did not notice before!"

That was entirely unexpected, I was taken aback, "What?" The man stepped toward me and grabbed me by the upper arm, pulling me toward him, into the light of the sun. As it enveloped my face and I blinked at the brightness of it, I heard the man gasp again.

"_Mio dio_!" He whispered. Squinting at him, I grew concerned. What was wrong with my eyes?

"What?" I demanded. He just shook his head, leaning closer and narrowing his eyes as if critically examining a painting.

"What?!" I almost yelled. He pulled back and looked at me with new eyes, filled with wonder. It was completely silent for a moment. "Your eyes are blue. Bluer than the sky. Deep, entrancing blue," he murmured a slight frown on his face. "Are you a witch? Is this magic?" He exclaimed, still gazing into my eyes, flickering between them.

"I'm not really sure, to be honest. If it is it's not my fault. I'm not a witch, I promise." I shot him a crooked, reassuring smile.

"Well then," he laughed in amazement, causing his blue eyes to crinkle at the corners and sparkle even more than before, "Who _are_ you?"

I let out a little laugh of incredulity myself. He believed me! All at once, every tense muscle in my body relaxed beneath his hands, still firm on my upper arms, and my smiled widened happily

"Jessica," I introduced, "Jessica Raso."


	4. Chapter 3

After that, it took me a while to get anything out of him. He fluttered around his workshop opening and closing books, scribbling down notes on random pieces of paper and muttering excitedly to himself. Every now and again he'd walk back over to me and gaze wondrously up into my still blue eyes, and he never did stop asking me questions.

"It is strange, you look exactly like Marietta, in every way, but for your eyes, of course. It is simply incredible. I can barely believe you are not her. Do you remember anything of Marietta's life?"

"No, like I've said, I'm not her. I never was. I've always been me."

"Interesting. Forgive me for asking, but are you certain you have not possessed her body in some way? Or somehow swapped your minds into opposite bodies?"

I frowned at him, "Of course not. I've told you; I'm not a witch and I'm not a demon."

"But you must have had your own body."

"This is my own body." I insisted firmly, wholly believing it. I didn't understand his train of thought. I was me. I had always been me. I had no idea who Marietta was or why she looked like me but she was not me and I was not her.

Leo made an infuriatingly thoughtful sound at that and scribbled something down on a piece of paper, over a sketch. The questions continued with me nodding and shaking my head in response until he got to the more important questions, the ones I had to think carefully before replying to.

"Where are you from, Signorina Jessica? Venetia? Roma? Or here in Firenze? Hmm?" He smiled up at me, eagerly awaiting my answer. What could I tell him? Would it really matter if I lied? After a moment's consideration I decided to be honest with my new friend; "A long way from here," I told him.

"What was it called? Is it across a sea? The Mediterranean? The Celtic? Are you from Britain?" he urged. My mouth opened and shut as I thought. Surely he knew about the world, even living in this crazy city.

"Australia," I smiled.

"Is that a country?" he asked, his boyish features showing obvious confusion from where he stood on the other side of the table, quill in hand.

"Um… no. It's a continent. An island, really, but a continent as well... But I guess it's a country too," I stumbled over my explanation.

"Oh, I-I have never heard of the island Australia," He told me, seemingly worryingly sincere and then suddenly gasped, startling me. "Oh! But I have gotten ahead of myself! _Dove sono i miei modi?_" he growled to himself, dropping the quill and walking around to grasp my empty hand. "Signorina Jessica, let me introduce myself. I am Leonardo Da Vinci, artist and inventor," he kissed my hand charmingly, but I didn't have it in me to blush. I had frozen. I stared at him with a rude, amused expression and then laughed out loud.

"Is that so?" I drawled as he stood up and released my hand. He nodded, still with that boyish smile on his face. "R_igh_t," I rolled my eyes and shook my head, "What year were you born, then?"

He thought a moment, still smiling at me, "I was born on the 15th of April, 1452."

Was he crazy? Seeing the earnestness in his blue eyes I felt the sudden and unpleasant feeling of doubt wash over me. "And what year is it now?" I asked him, mentally reassuring myself.

"Why, it is 1476, Signorina."

My mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that the people of this crazy town had decided to choose to go by a different year than the one it actually was, which actually made a lot of sense, and so I didn't panic or freak out in any particular way. I simply swallowed the doubt and accompanying nausea and smiled at the man who had decided to be referred to as Leonardo Da Vinci. He wasn't hurting anyone with his obsession, so who was I to judge?

_He is not lying._

I flinched violently as my left thumb burst with sharp, stinging pain and I clenched my fist tightly, my eyes fixing to a point on the ground as I focussed on not bursting into pained and frightened tears. There was that disembodied voice again, from before. This was decidedly abnormal for me, and most certainly did not bode well.

"Do you have anywhere I could change, Leonardo?" I heard myself ask, trying and failing to pull my face into a smile.

"Of course, Signorina! Please, follow me." He hurried up the stairs to my right, looking over his shoulder and indicating for me to follow. I gathered my things, refraining from using my left hand as I ascended the creaky, wooden staircase. "You must excuse the mess; it has been quite a while since I have housed anyone," he apologized profusely as he kicked aside books and papers, clearing the path. He stopped at the second door and smiled at me before swinging it open.

"It is not much, but I am sure we can do something to make it seem more… homely." I stepped inside the small room. There was a window on the back wall looking out onto the street, a bed along the left wall beside it, a small mahogany bedside table and a chest of drawers opposite the bed. "You will be staying here? I mean," he laughed nervously, "I wouldn't think that you would want to go back to Marietta's home as you are now?"

I placed my boots on the floor by the bed and the clothes on top of the clean, white blankets on the bed and then I turned to him, suddenly awkward, "No, not really," I admitted.

"Could I? Stay here, I mean. If it wouldn't be too much trouble." I bit my lip and stared at him hopefully.

Immediately the boyish smile returned in full force and he stepped forward from where he was in the doorway, grasping my arms in his hands. His eyes sparkled enthusiastically, "Of course it would not be any trouble! You are very welcome! It does get quite lonely all by myself with naught but my thoughts for company," he beamed.

"You're sure?" I asked, a huge smile stretching my cheeks. He nodded enthusiastically, and I laughed in relief, "Thank you! Thank you, so much, really!"

"Oh_, è davvero nessun problema,_" he let go of my arms and waved me off, blushing. "Well!" he stepped back further, "I will let you change then, shall I?" I nodded and he walked out the door, smiling at me as he pulled it closed, "I will be downstairs if you need me." I smiled once more, and then he was gone.

Immediately, my smile left my face and my shoulders dropped. A large gust of air left my lungs. I raised my hands to settled on my head, lacing my fingers on top of my hair, and then I turned a slow 360, taking in my…my new room. I had no idea what to think about the situation I was in. All that mattered, I supposed, was that I had clothes, a roof over my head, food, water, and was in no imminent danger. Everything else, like the entire 'I'm in 1476-land with Leonardo Da Vinci' thing wasn't as alarming as it was interesting and definitely something I could cope with.

After a few moments to collect myself, I checked that the door and window were closed securely before I began changing. I took the green pouch from my hip and placed it on the bedside table.

It took a while to release my stupid corset as the bindings were down my back, but eventually I was struggling out of it and throwing it spitefully onto the bed. Layer after layer of skirts fell from my hips and onto the floor and then, I was standing in the middle of my new room, completely naked. I looked down at my body, and then at the clothes I was going to get changed into. Was I supposed to wear underwear? Did they even have underwear here?

I sighed, in a predicament. Wait. Bindings. I looked down at the ridiculous amount of material that made up the skirts of my old dress, sighed guiltily and then got to work.

Twenty or so minutes later I was descending the stairs, feeling entirely satisfied with my clothing purchases. The tunic exaggerated my slim body and curves beautifully, the pants clung to my legs as I thought they would, but weren't nearly as uncomfortable around the nether regions as I feared they would be. And my boots were soft but durable. It was perfect.

I had torn off a thin strip of material from my skirts and tied my hair back in a messy ponytail.

I stopped half way down the stairs when I heard voices coming from the doorway. The rising was filled with light and I could see the edge of Leonardo's shadow. Slowly I continued my descent, my soft leather boots barely padding on the wooden stairs as I went.

"Ah, Madonna! So good to see you!" I heard Leonardo exclaim earnestly.

"_Buon giorno_, Leonardo. This is my son, Ezio," a woman's voice replied.

"A pleasure," Leonardo stated happily.

"_Il piacere è tutto mio,_" came the polite reply, the voice, deep, smooth and utterly charming.

"Have you got the paintings I asked for?" the woman asked politely, sounding amused.

"Ah! Yes, of course! Just a moment!" Leonardo came into view, a massive smile on his face and his beret more tilted on his head than before. He froze briefly as he saw me standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking curious. "Ah!" he cried, walking toward me and looking me up and down appreciatively, "_Bellissimo_, Jessica! It's perfect!" he gushed, straightening out the sleeves of my shirt.

I twisted my mouth, embarrassed, "_Grazie, _Leonardo." Again, the word slipped from my lips.

Leonardo seemed to remember himself, "Oh!" he gasped, looking over his shoulder, his smile gone and suddenly wide eyed. "Maria must not see you! She is Federico's mother. She will not hesitate to drag you home!" he whispered. My eyebrows raised and I nodded in understanding, "Don't worry, I'll stay out of sight." I told him. "Don't you have some paintings to get?"

"Oh! _Si,_ I do!" His smile returned and he patted me gently on the cheek once before hurrying over to a box full of canvases, which unlike the ones he had earlier, were covered with colour.

"I will return soon, Jessica. There is food in the cupboards; help yourself," he told me before he walked back to the door, closing it behind him.

I spent the next hours devouring what did indeed seem to be this Leonardo's own work. None of it seemed printed or copied and many of the sketches, paintings and sculptures seemed to be genuinely half-done. I had studied little of Da Vinci's work, but enough to know it when I saw it, and so I became increasingly disturbed as ridiculous thoughts began to enter my mind. I instead distracted myself with the inspection of the hundreds of literally handwritten books that lined the shelves. Leonardo's library was beyond my wildest dreams, with subjects ranging from amateur romance to the anatomy of a frog to a book of constellations and how they have predicted history.

Leonardo found me curled up on the couch, chomping on a red apple and reading feverishly through a book completely dedicated to insistence that the earth was the centre of the universe, and that everything else revolved around it. Although clearly scientific in nature, the concept of religion was consistently associated with the theory. Although I knew it all completely ridiculous, reading such nonsense written in such a certain and mature manner was a new experience for me and such deep-set ignorance was in a strange way, interesting.

Leonardo watched me for a long moment, before commenting, "Jessica, that book has no pictures in it."

Surprised, I looked up at him as if he were a chicken that had just grown a head taller, pulled on a pair of tights and started doing the can-can. "I know. I'm not looking at pictures."

His eyebrows rose, "You can read?" he asked incredulously. Slowly, I nodded. He chuckled, thoroughly surprised, though not displeased, "Marietta could not. She said it was a great waste of time filling her head with useless knowledge that she would never use," he told me.

"Well, I can, Leonardo," I smiled.

"Indeed. What do you think of the book?"

"It's all a load of crap, honestly" I asked him, noticing the way his eyebrows shot up to the roof. "The fact is that the earth and the moon and all the planets for that matter revolve around the sun. It's a gravitational thing. As the earth revolves around the sun, the earth also spins on is own axis. That's how we get the seasons. And the moon, because of earth's gravitational pull revolves around us, and because of the moon's gravitational pull, the tides of the ocean occur…" I trailed off and shrugged. Looking at Leonardo I was confused at the shock on his face, which only caused to add to my steadily building sense of doubt that this was simply a backward, crazy town.

"How? What makes you say these things?" he stammered.

"Science, logic." I shook my head and shut the book quickly. "Forget it. Forget I said anything. If you repeated any of it you'd probably be killed for heresy by the Church, right? Heh. Hell, Isaac Newton won't even be around for another two hundred years…" I cleared my throat, put down my book and finished off my apple. Leonardo stared at me for a long moment, seemingly shaken. The sparkle remained strong in his blue eyes.

"Where you lived, this… Australia. Would you say that the civilisation is advanced?" he asked me suddenly.

After a moment of deliberating whether or not he was seriously implying that he had never heard of Australia before, I slowly answered, "Yes." There was a long silence and I began to feel uncomfortable with both my own thoughts and the look on Leonardo's face which encouraged them, "Look, it's—I'm tired. I'm goin' to bed." I moved toward the staircase, feeling Leonardo's eyes on me. I paused halfway up the flight, "_Buona sera_, Leonardo."

"Are you… are you an angel Jessica? Please, just tell me if you are, it will make more sense than anything my mind can come up with," Leonardo suddenly pleaded, frowning desperately at me, "You speak with Marietta Sanfilippo's body, and yet you are not her. The words you speak seem blasphemous but sound so wise, so _sapendo_ as if they held the truth to the world."

I burst out laughing at that and had to take a long moment to compose myself, wondering at how alike we were in our confusion. Shaking my head, I objected, "No, no where near! I'm human, just like you. I talk how I do because where I come from things are… well, they're just very different. I'm not special. I'm not different. I'm me." I smiled at him fondly. "Goodnight, Leo."

After a long moment, a small smile appeared on his lips as well, "Goodnight _Angelo_."


	5. Chapter 4

Several days passed settling in, and they sure were interesting. I quickly learned to survive on a diet of pasta, cheese, bread, fruit, chicken, fish, giblets, various innards and stew, all cooked using a pot or a pan over a small fire. Leo had a habit of putting far too much spice and herbs on every single dish he created, which I refrained from commenting upon as he always seemed eager and proud to present me with the meal he had slaved over for hours during the day. He was not judgemental of the fact that I was a woman who had absolutely no idea how to cook anything in a Renaissance kitchen, and was happy to cook for me without complaint. I insisted on washing up after every meal so I didn't feel completely useless. I was pretty hesitant about the water at first, but after several days of drinking it and remaining alive, I relaxed.

The worst thing I had experienced so far, however, was not the questionable water, or the canvas and straw mattress I had to sleep on every night, nor was it the smell from the room in the back behind the curtain where Leo told me I really should never go. It was a small room called the _closet_. A bit smaller than the average modern toilet cubicle, it had a door and a small window just above height level to let in fresh air. Yes, I have to say having to do my business into a small pot and then put the lid on top and march it through the house and out the back door to deposit it in the back alley was most definitely the worst experience of my life.

Leo turned out to be an amazing, intelligent and compassionate man and the conversations we had could go on forever if we let them, but sitting in the same room, looking at the same surroundings for so long when there was an entire city out there to explore left me itching. Normally, I was more the 'stay at home, read books and play video games' type of person, but this wasn't exactly a normal situation, and I had decided to embrace it fully. So, six days after I had first arrived, I walked out the front door, calling out an "I'll be back soon!" to Leo who had buried himself in his work and was talking to himself again.

I pulled on my boots and fell out into the street, forging the surroundings of Leonardo's workshop into my brain. I had abandoned my little green money pouch for a more secure dark brown one that was attached to a double leather belt around my waist. Also attached to the belt was a simple steel dagger that Leo had given me the morning after I had arrived. "For protection," he had said, and so immediately I had cut my finger on its sharp blade, much to his amusement.

I walked through the streets of Firenze, my blue eyes taking in every detail of the city, soaking up the cultured atmosphere and the warm sun. It was a very beautiful day; blue skies, sunshine and a slight breeze. Children ran laughing across the cobblestoned ground, merchants called from their stalls, groups of young ladies giggled at charming young men and old men sat on benches grumbling about the changing times. My black hair swung behind me, pulled back into a dark purple ribbon Leo had used to replace the bit of material I was using before, and there was a notable skip in my step as I willingly lost myself to the flow of the city, following the crowds this way and that, soaking in the scenery and staring in awe at the occasional statue or beautifully crafted building.

Then all of the sudden I felt an overwhelming urge to move to the left.

Trusting my gut, I stepped sideways out of the way, just in time to see a brown caped figure with a long red sash running past. The man wore a white hood and tunic, and I watched as he disappeared into the crowd.

Burning with curiosity, I followed him, my curiosity turning slowly to worry and caution as the bobbing white hood drew closer and closer to the square where I had seen the gallows several days before.

Sure enough, when I arrived, there was absolute chaos. An enormous crowd surrounding the wooden frame all screaming and cursing in a roaring cacophony of sound, at three people standing battered and bruised behind the loosely hanging nooses with their arms tied behind their backs.

I wasn't curious anymore. This wasn't just some bored wander around. They were going to kill those people. And as I walked closer, I noticed with a rising horror that that short one on the right wasn't a man; it was just boy, no older than Tommy.

The road that I had come out of was on the left side of the gallows, while the crowd was in front. Up on that stand, closest to me were three men; a guard, a fat man wearing a dark hood over his head, and an even fatter man who was spouting out accusations at the two men and the boy. Something about treason against the city and it's people. I couldn't clearly hear his words over the screaming of the crowd and the pounding of my heart in my ears. The tallest man, standing up with his arms behind his back yelled something at the fat man, and the fat man was smiling cruelly and replying with a sneer on his face.

The last thing I heard was; "I hereby sentence you all to_ death_," and then, I was moving closer. My dagger was ready in my hand, and a certain look was on my face. This certain look was the same one I always pulled just before I did something really, really stupid.

The oldest man was yelling at the fat man, and there was a white hood approaching the gallows in the corner of my eye, and a guard was securing the noose over the boy's neck. Everything seemed to be in slow motion as I walked closer, toward the stairs up to where the fat men were. The middle man seemed to sense me as I approached because his head turned. His eyes were sad and terrified, but when they landed on me, they widened.

"Marietta…" I saw his mouth form the word but I couldn't hear it. There was no sound in my head but for my own heartbeat, which proved eerily steady and calm. For one long, lasting moment, time froze and I wondered at what exactly it was I was doing up there with a knife in my hand and what exactly it was I planned to do next. The moment I decided I should probably have thought this through, time began once more, now seeming impossibly, incomprehensively fast.

I ran the last few steps toward the short stairs and leapt, skipping four of them completely and hopping up the last two. I ran toward the nooses and the males whose necks they were attached to. The guard stood near the lever, his gloved hands were wrapped around it ready to take the floor out from underneath them. I stretched out my arm, inside hoping, hoping…

My dagger seemed to have a golden glow as it sliced through one, two, three ropes, severing them completely. I didn't pause as I ran up to the guard with the lever, lifting my leg and nailing him in the chest, the force of my kick sending him flying from the edge of the stand. Suddenly, the oldest man, with his thin, bloodied nose and long, lank hair and the severed noose around his neck threw himself toward me. He turned his back to me and I hurriedly sliced through his binds. Immediately, he charged into a startled guard, quickly disarming him and running him through with his own blade. Women screamed and men yelled as they began to flee. Guards stationed around the square swarmed through the crowd toward the stand.

"Run!" the eldest man commanded the others, whom I assumed were his sons, but they didn't move. I drew the kid to me, cutting quickly through his binds before moving over to the eldest son, who stared at me wide eyed, as if he couldn't believe I was real. _"Federico!"_ his father yelled again. I cut through his binds and helped the kid remove the noose from his neck. Their father ducked beneath the high swing of a guard, kicking him back into two others. They fell in a heap to the ground. Immediately another attacked, and another. The eldest man parried and kicked and slashed at the guards, keeping them away from his sons and I. Federico stared as I returned quickly to his still, shocked form and reached up to remove the noose. I threw it away. "Marietta," he whispered.

"We have to go," I told him urgently, my eyes flickering behind him where several guards were clambering up the sides of the stand, behind their father. Beyond them, a white hooded figure, the man I had followed here, stood within a group of guards. The guard he fought was a brute of a man, his armour thick and heavy, and his weapon, a massive axe, crashed loudly to the ground again and again as he narrowly missed the smaller, less armoured man each time. Federico grabbed my wrist in one hand suddenly, and his little brother's in the other and ran us down the opposite stairs to where his father was fighting off the guards.

"Ezio, run!" I heard their father yell.

"But—!" The white hooded man dived around the brute he was fighting. He swung at the guard but his sword merely glanced off the shiny metal. He had no chance.

"Now! ARGH!" Federico froze his running at the cry, and as we turned our heads back to the fight, I gasped in horror. Federico yelled in anger, and the little boy began to cry.

"_FATHER!"_ The white hooded man screamed as his father gazed down at the two swords in his chest. His own sword fell from his grasp. His head lolled back on his shoulders. His legs buckled beneath him. Even from here, on the other side of the square, I could tell that the brave, heroic man, their father, was dead.

"I'LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I SWEAR I WILL!" the white hooded man screamed. My head swam as I stared sickly at the bodies littering the square. Blood stained the shining metal of breastplates and the cobblestone ground below them. Federico's chest heaved beside me, his body shaking with emotion. His large hand crushed my own. The kid's small shoulders trembled with his sobs. His wide brown eyes were wet and traumatised. My eyes trailed across the square, to a small, dark alleyway where a shady figure of a darkly hooded man stood, watching. Cold, black eyes met my own as my heart pounded in my chest and adrenaline coursed through my veins. I held his gaze for a long, horrible moment, and then he disappeared in the darkness, and my attention was drawn to the half a dozen guards closing in on us. "Come on!" I twisted my hand so that I was the one with a hold of Federico's wrist, and I ran, dragging them both along behind me. I could hear the guards shouting behind us, could hear their footsteps on the cobbles, and could hear the clanging of their swords.

I panted as I sprinted, my lungs holding out for the moment and my legs strong as my boots pounded across the cobblestones. I thought of my parents then, and of my sister Jasmin and my little brother Tommy, and my mind was seeped with the fear that I would never be able to see them again. This was all too real. I could really die here. With these oh-so-positive thoughts, I swallowed hard and poured on the speed. "Come _on_," I urged the boys, tugging on Federico's wrist harder, trying to get him to snap out of the shock he was certainly experiencing and focus on the situation at hand.

Then the boy tripped. And Federico tripped. And I tripped. Laying sprawled on the floor, my hands and knees grazed and my wrist uncomfortably tender, I resisted the urge to wet myself as I turned my head to look over my shoulder to see a lightly armoured guard with a short sword sprint closer and closer to us. We had seemingly lost the larger group of guards. I clambered quickly to my feet, dragging the sobbing and terrified young boy with me, wrapping my hand around his arm as I stumbled backward, getting ready to continue running. "Come on!" I yelled to his older brother, Federico, who had hit his head when he fell and who had taken several moments longer to right himself. Those several moments were all it took.

I yelled out in warning as the thin, swift guard came dangerously close to Federico, who turned to face him at the precise moment the guard sent his sword careening toward his head. Federico dodged quickly, avoiding it skilfully even as he blinked hard, shaking his head to regain focus. I pulled the kid behind me as Federico sent a fist into the side of the guard's head. The guard stumbled back at the force but quickly righted himself. He held his short sword at the ready. The men circled one another. The guard, confident with his weapon and his opponent's lack of, swung at Federico's side. Federico stepped out of the way, stepped into the guard, turned his body and sent a hard punch into the guard's unprotected side. The guard gasped, stumbling back, holding his side. Federico stood tall, watching him and waiting. The guard bent over, his face twisting in agony. Federico seemed to have broken his ribs. The guard took a breath and attacked Federico once more, his sword high above his head. Federico ducked low to the ground and kicked out a leg, tripping the guard. The moment the man hit the ground, Federico was on him. He grasped the hand holding the sword, digging in his fingers to force him to let go of the weapon. The guard tried to sit up. Federico punched him hard in the nose. The guard fell on his back, blood splurting from his nose and upper lip. He groaned, defeated.

Federico stepped away from him, glancing up to see the coast clear. He turned to face us, his shaggy brown hair in disarray. I let out a breath I didn't realise I had been holding. Federico stepped toward us. I saw the guard moving, too late. As I took a breath in to cry a warning, the guard took up his sword, rolled onto his side and stabbed out. The sword cut through Federico's right leg like butter. I was silence in horror as I stared at the sharp stick of metal protruding from the front of Federico's pants. Federico lowered his eyes to stare at the sword in sick confusion. The guard yanked it out, the metal sliding through meat, disappearing from sight. Behind me, Petruccio screamed. Federico collapsed. Blood splattered across the cobblestones. It spread along Federico's pant leg. It ran down the guard's sword, dripping from the tip. An ungodly scream of pain ripped from Federico's lips. I released the kid, stumbling dully toward the injured man, my eyes fixed on the guard behind him who was rising to his feet. I wrapped my arms around Federico. He buried his face in my shoulder, breathing erratically. His large, bruised and bloody hand fisted in the material on my back.

There was a sudden flash of white and a violet slash of red. A large, white form hit the guard from behind. The guard would have crashed to the ground had the sword through his chest not have been holding him upright. His own short sword, slick with Federico's blood clattered to the ground. He let out a wet gurgle and went limp. The white hooded man, the White Hood, as I decided to dub him in the absence of a name, removed his sword from the body of the guard and returned it to his sheathe, still bloodied. The guard's body crumpled to the ground.

The White Hood strode to Federico, whom I assumed he was related to, and quickly looked over his wound. "Ezio," Federico panted, "It is bad."

"You are going to be fine," The White Hood stated determinedly, placing Federico's arm over his shoulder and urging him to his feet. The sound of clanking armour could be heard close by. We were not safe yet. I quickly took Federico's other arm, ignoring the blood that covered his hand, which dripped onto my tunic. His arm over my shoulders, we hurried away, out of sight of the guards. Looking up, I saw that Federico had tears streaming down his face and was biting his lip to keep from crying out loud. I clamped my teeth together, feeling my nostrils quaver and my vision blur with tears. The boy hurried along beside me, his breath racked with sobs and dirty streaks of water running down his cheeks, a traumatised look in his eyes as he kept a tight hold on my tunic.

I could no longer hear the yelling of the guards nor the clanking of their armour, and there seemed to be no one on the streets. We were completely alone. I slowed our pace, wondering if we were really safe, and where to go now that we were.

"Where now?" I quietly asked Federico. Wincing at the grey tint to his skin, the cold sweat beading on his forehead and the dark rings forming around his eyes.

"_La Rosa Colta_," a deep answered suddenly. I looked over Federico's head to the White Hood, whose clothing wasn't so very white anymore. His head was lowered so I couldn't see his face. "How is he?" he asked, walking over and taking Federico's other arm over his shoulders. I could lie. I could make a joke. I could do so many things, but my god, these boys had just lost their father.

"Not good," I told him gravely, "He needs help. Right now."


	6. Chapter 5

As the White Hood led us through the streets toward what he said was our safe house, I began replaying what I had just done through my head, barely able to believe that I wasn't dreaming. I looked down at the still shocked face of the kid, still hanging on to my tunic with a death grip. His round face was covered in tears and I couldn't imagine what it would be like to watch your father killed before your eyes. For a moment, Tommy's smiling face flashed in front of my eyes, and when it disappeared, my left arm instinctively wound around his shoulders, offering what little comfort I could. He glanced up at me with terrified, agonised dark brown eyes, far older than his age. Unable to comprehend the emotions, I had to look away, my heart still pounding in my chest.

"We're here," the White Hood announced.

I looked up to see a large building with roses climbing the walls beside the rich mahogany door and deep red material lining the edge of the roof. The place looked beautiful, but the strong smell of perfume and something else, something almost salty hung heavily in the air around it. I wrinkled my nose at the smell, frowning in disgust, wondering where I had smelled such a thing before.

The White Hood didn't bother to knock on the door before he entered. We burst through it, and the now dead weight on my arm wasn't very re-assuring. Federico was unconscious. Looking over my shoulder I saw that there was a trail of bloody footsteps leading out the door and back down the street. He had lost a lot of blood. I tried my best to hold back my frightened tears and pressed my lips together firmly to stop them from trembling.

"Ezio?" came a suave female voice. A woman dressed in a dress and hood the same red as Leo's cape came into view. Her breasts were exploding over the top of her corset and suddenly, I realised what the smell was, what she was, what this place was. I stiffened, and seeing the realisation in my eyes, the woman smiled shortly, looking me up and down, noting every tremble in my hands and lips, and the open fear and shock in my eyes.

"_Ciao, signorina_. I am Paola, welcome to _La Rosa Colta_" she introduced herself to me with a slight bow of her head. Her eyes swept over Federico then, seemingly dead in my arms and her smile swiftly vanished, her deep brown eyes settling calmly on his injured leg.

"Follow me." She turned to a group of girls I hadn't noticed, congregated on the first rising of the staircase, all wearing revealing dresses. She spouted out a couple of words in Italian that I didn't have a hope of understanding and for a moment I wondered what language I myself was speaking, for surely they were speaking English, as I definitely had no knowledge of the Italian language besides a couple of the basics. As curious a thought as it was, now was not the time to ponder on it.

A young woman wearing a green dress that sat too low on her chest and rode up too high on her hips came over and gently led the kid away from us, and sat him down on one of the plush, expensive looking couches to our left. He looked worriedly back at me, but I gave him a small reassuring smile. At least, I hoped it looked reassuring.

The White Hood and I carried Federico into one of the back rooms on the ground floor and laid him down on the extravagant bed. Thin, white material hung from the roof, and the smell coming from the incense burning in the corner of the room seemed to make my eyes play tricks on me. Everything seemed darker, more intimate. The candles flickered on the walls and a soft breeze flew in from the window, picking up the thin curtains.

I stepped back, getting out of the way of the women as they bustled through the door with bandages, a bucket of water and several rags and began to work on his leg. They cut off his pants at the thigh and then started cleaning the wound. I couldn't watch. The injury was horrific. I had assumed that it would have been an altogether clean cut which would require stitches, sterilisation and a bunch of bandages, but something had gone wrong. The injury was not a slit but a gouge, dark red and swimming with blood. At the sight of pale white which I presumed was his bone I turned my back on the bed, staring hard at the wall, trying to ignore the smell of his blood, trying to not throw up. My hands and jaw were clenched, and my shoulders were hunched.

I could feel a pair of eyes burning a hole in the back of my head but I didn't turn to see who they belonged to.

I heard Federico cry out in pain and turned my head to gaze at his face. He had woken up and was now trying to sit up, wanting to see the damage, completely ignoring Paola's urging for him to stay still, "Ezio."

My eyes met two dark golden orbs, shining in the shadow beneath the hood for a mere moment before they turned to focus intently on Paola's urgent face, "Yes?"

"You must keep him still," she ordered sternly, moving aside for him as he took Federico by both shoulders and forced him to lie back down on the bed. Federico's eyes were scrunched shut as he groaned. He clasped the White Hood's upper arms, his knuckles white. I stood, watching the scene, breathing too quickly and wishing I was anywhere else.

I could go home now, back to Leo and his confusing mumbling, I thought suddenly, I had done my part, now I could go. I wasn't needed here. This wasn't my place; I didn't _want_ it to be my place. I could just leave this family to their story and no longer take part in any of it. Whatever had caused this was not my problem.

Paola, as if sensing my thoughts looked up at me with empathetic eyes. I stared back through wet eyes, and her small nod before she looked back down to Federico's leg indicated that she understood my plight.

_You mustn't leave, Jessica_, the voice told me sternly as my left palm burned.

"What could I possibly do to help here?" I whispered under my breath, sniffing as I turned to stare blankly out the window.

_You mustn't leave,_ the voice simply told me once again. I sniffed deeply, wiping at the tears leaking from my eyes and registering the sudden light-headed and numb feeling I was experiencing, accompanied by the sharp taste of bile in my mouth. I turned abruptly on my heel to walk out the door, out of the building and back to Leo's. I didn't make it.

"Marietta…" I heard him groan, causing me to pause in the doorway. "Please. Do not leave me again," he begged, his voice revealing his immense pain. I turned my head to the side, not turning. My face showed my indecision. "Please," his voice broke off as he cried out in pain. That did it.

Before I could think it through, I had returned to the room, kneeling beside his head, taking his hand and stroking his brown hair back from his sweaty, fevered forehead. "Okay," I whispered to him. He let out a small, relieved smile, his eyes sparkling with affection before his face crumpled into pain again, his hand crushing my own. I blame my decision on the intense, overwhelming level of incense in the room. It was messing with my head. The White Hood's hands disappeared from Federico's shoulders as the man relaxed under my ministrations. I glanced at him with a small smile as he sat in a nearby chair and watched Paola and the girls work.

I stayed for the entirety of the time it took for them to clean, sew and bandage his leg. I winced every time he cried out and cursed myself for even thinking of leaving him like this. Federico fell unconscious several minutes before they finished, his hand going limp in my own. I froze for a moment, and then relaxed as I watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. I sighed in relief, letting go of his hand and clenching and unclenching my own, trying to get some amount of feeling back into it. I stepped away from the bed as one of the women began wiping his forehead with a wet cloth as the others cleaned up the blood.

"Come, let him rest now," Paola put one hand on the White Hood's shoulder and gently led him out of the room, inclining her head for me to do the same. I looked sadly down at Federico's sleeping form before I followed.

Once back out in the main foyer, I collapsed on one of the couches, sitting there with my legs apart in a very unfeminine manner, tipping back my head, closing my eyes and rubbing my hands down my face with a soft groan. Behind me, the White Hood and Paola were having a calm, quiet conversation which I unabashedly listened in on.

"Where is Pettrucio?" Now, with my eyes closed and using just my ears I realised with much surprise that the White Hood had the same voice as the man from Leonardo's the other day. Ezio, Federico's brother. Leo knew them both. Interesting.

"Upstairs with his mother and sister. He is exhausted," Paola told him, "And so are you it seems…"

Their conversation went on and on, but I blocked it out as a wave of fatigue flowed over me followed by an enormous headache. I groaned, leaning forward to rub at my temples, my shoulders and left palm aching. The noise apparently interrupted the conversation transpiring behind me, as they fell silent and I felt the woman sit down beside me, placing a delicate hand on my shoulder, "_Mia cara_, you must have experienced such a shock today, far more than a woman should ever have to. Do you have somewhere safe you can go and rest?" she asked me gently.

Licking my lips, my heart thudding deeply in my chest, I nodded. "I'm staying with Leonardo Da Vinci at the moment," I let out a long breath as I looked to an old, tall grandfather clock for the time, "He's bound be worried by now."

"I know the place. I could escort you there, if you would like," the White Hood offered.

I nodded slowly in assent, not entirely comfortable with the idea yet unable to see any other way of finding my way home. "Can you walk?" he inquired, offering a big hand to me. I took it gently, rising to my feet with a quiet, "Yes."

With a farewell to Paola and an awkward cheek kiss, we were on the streets.

The White Hood and I were silent for a long time, both as enveloped in our own thoughts. We took the back streets and alley ways, wanting to stay as much out of sight of guards who would no doubt be suspicious at the sight of our clothes covered in as much blood as they were. I wondered how Leo would react and hoped that he would be able to get it out. Few thoughts otherwise seemed ready to return to my mind, however. I wondered if I was experiencing shock, as except for those few tears by Federico's bedside and some slight trembling, I didn't feel any strong emotions concerning the event. This was followed by the questioning of how it was that Federico seemed to also know me by the name Marietta, as I had certainly never met him prior to saving his life. At least, I didn't think I had. I was just setting myself a reminder to sit Leo down to fully question him of the issue of this Marietta character whom no less than two people had mistaken me for as of today, when I was startled by the deep, smooth voice of the White Hood, or Ezio, "Why did you do it? Why did you save them?" I glanced up at him with wide eyes to see his jaw clenched, not looking at me.

I told him quietly, "It was the right thing to do."

"Because of Federico?" I shook my head and sniffed.

"No, your youngest brother, Petruccio. How old is he?"

"Petruccio is of ten and three years."

I let out a short breath, thinking he looked slightly younger, "Well, I don't believe a thirteen year old could ever be rightfully put to death, no matter what his crime."

"Everyone dies eventually," the White Hood told me gravely.

I nodded, "Yes, they do. But there's a time for people to die. For your little brother, being hung at thirteen? That was not right. Children shouldn't die before they've lived, and certainly not at the hands of another."

The White Hood fell silent and remained so until we reached Leo's. I stood there awkwardly in front of the door, staring at the darkening street behind him.

"Look, I'm—" I sniffed wetly, still feeling numb, "I'm sorry about your dad," I told him quietly, looking him in the eye, seeing the pain there.

He sighed heavily, wiping his hands down his face. "_Grazie_, Marietta," he murmured softly, before looking straight into my remorseful eyes, "For everything." I saw him swallow, his Adams apple bobbing rapidly, "If it weren't for you, Federico and Petruccio would be dead as well. I would have been too slow to save them. I do not understand how or why you do so, but… thank you."

"You're welcome, Ezio," I murmured, "Take care of them."

He nodded, "Of course."

I shot a small smile at him, "Until tomorrow."

"_Buona notte_, Marietta," the White Hood turned and walked away, his shape darkening in the evening light.

"It's Jessica…" I whispered, not expecting him to hear me. I turned and walked in the door, closing it gently behind me with a long sigh.

Inside, the fire was crackling in the fireplace, and there were several candles lit here and there on the tables. I had barely taken two steps from the rising when I was attacked by a red caped man. A red beret slid past my cheek as his arms enveloped me. I let out a small cry of alarm.

"_Mio Dio_, Jessica! _Ero cosí preoccupato!"_ Leonardo cried.

I immediately relaxed, "_Mi dispiace_, Leo. I got… held up." I hugged the man back, shortly before he pulled away sharply.

"'Held up' _il mio culo_! The guards are/ wandering around putting up wanted posters of the _fratelli_ Auditore and a woman fitting your description!" he cried, grasping my shoulders now and shaking me fiercely. "_Che diavolo stavi pensando?"_ he cried, worry in his eyes.

Hmm… _diavolo_, I think is hell, and there was a question mark on the end, so…

Seeing my confused face, Leonardo rolled his eyes and hugged me tightly again. "You're safe now, _Angelo,_" he sighed, seemingly reassuring himself of it more than I.

Leonardo released me, moving to lock the front door securely, with all three bolts. Talk about security. "You are absolutely filthy, Jessica," he commented as he returned, looking me over critically, his gaze settling for a long moment on the blood, "Luckily, I assumed you would be and have the bath water heated and ready for you."

He grasped my hand and led me past the stair case and into a small room with a tiled floor. In the middle of the room was a metal tub, filled with steaming water. "It may be too hot still as I didn't know when you were getting back, but as I have read, women like to have hotter baths then men do, hmm?" He grinned, "The towels are there on the chair. Now, if you will give me your clothes I can get them washed and dried by the time you finish."

And with that, he began undressing me.

I was so shocked that I didn't stop him until he was there tugging up my shirt, my tunic, belt and boots already off. I swatted away his hands then, stepping away and blushing. "Leonardo!" I protested in outrage, understandably disturbed.

He stared at me for a moment before realisation settled in and his face fell in mortification, "Oh! _Mi dispiace_, Jessica! I did not realise—!"

"That I was a girl?" I asked, my eyes wide in disbelief. He looked down at the ground, blushing.

"No, I most definitely realised that, it is just, well…" he trailed off. While I shook my head slightly, waiting for his explanation as to why he would think it was decent to undress me. "Please don't misunderstand, Jessica, I do not think of you in that way…more…like a father. I was so concerned about you when you did not return after such a long time, and then the guards were asking me about you and…" he sighed, distressed, "I do not want to lose you, Jessica. I like having you with me. I like talking with you, and discussing and debating with you about the things we do! You are kind and caring and understanding and incredibly intelligent… I care for you greatly…" he stared at the floor, thoroughly ashamed and distraught.

It was then that I burst into tears. Rendered completely unable to cope with or communicate concerning the events of that day, I stood before the confused, apologetic and completely flustered man and sobbed bitterly. Curling in on myself, Leo pulled me tightly to his chest and held me as tears flowed and he gave up on trying to get any answers out of me. I cried for hours, during which time I took my bath, which was lovely even though the water became red with Federico's blood, got dressed, refused anything to eat, assured Leo that I would be fine soon and that he should go to bed, and finally crawled into my own bed and thoroughly soaked the pillow with my tears. By the time they began to dry at last, I had found myself unable to precisely identify which one thing that had happened to me had caused such a reaction. One thing was sure, however; I was no longer numb.

I fell asleep soon after, feeling a lot better, almost peaceful, in fact, right up until, for the fifth night in a row, I experienced a terrible nightmare about a young boy and a road.


	7. Chapter 6

Leonardo woke me the next morning, a troubled frown on his face. I blinked blearily at him from where I was curled up in my bed, wearing nothing but a shirt that Leo had given me to sleep in that was clearly one of his own. It reached down to my knees when I stood and I had to roll up the sleeves.

"Whadda you want, Leo?" I grumbled, re-closing my eyes and snuggling down deeper beneath the covers.

I hid my face in my pillow as Leo pulled back the curtain, letting in the morning light and began shaking me gently. "Jessica, there is a hooded man at the door for you. He has a sword on his hip and I cannot see his eyes no matter how I try. What have you been up to?" I swatted his hands away and yawned hugely, wishing that he would just leave me alone to sleep.

Couldn't he see I was traumatized from yesterday's adventure and wanted to do nothing more than lie in bed for the rest of forever?

"Sleeping," I grumbled.

Leo shook me again, more sharply this time. "Jessica, _please_. He will not leave without you. He walked straight into the house and stood there with his arms crossed demanding that he saw you! I told him that you were still asleep but he was absolutely adamant!" he cried, sounding distressed.

I groaned and rubbed my palms against my eyes, before sighing and glaring up at the roof.

"What time is it?" I mumbled to Leo who was now sitting on the edge of the bed gazing at me.

"A little past nine o'clock, _Angelo_…What should I do about the man?"

My long dark hair fell around my shoulders and I brushed it out of my face as I, in vain, tried to fight back another yawn. I stretched my arms above my head, making a little sound as my joints popped. Rubbing my eyes with my fists now, I motioned for Leo to move before throwing back the covers and swinging my legs around to hand off the side of the bed.

Again, I yawned and sighed. Stupid mornings, stupid sun.

"He's got a hood on?" I asked. Leo nodded vigorously, wringing his hands.

"Yes! And a sword! Is he your friend, or…?"

"No, he's not my friend, but I know him," I sighed, standing up and stretching my arms again.

"Well, who is he?"

"I think his name is Ezio," I said, pronouncing it with too much of an emphasis on the 'e'.

"Ezio Auditore?" Leo gasped, and his eyes features darkened as he gazed at me, "I heard of the events at the gallows yesterday. Jessica, is that the reason you were so upset? Did you have a part in the tragedy involving his family?"

I moved to the chair upon which Leo had neatly folded my clothes after washing them the night before, and as I picked them up, I noticed several dark spots and patches which had not been there before. I ran my fingers over them and Leo noticed, "Is that why you were covered in blood when you returned last night? And why the water turned red as I washed your clothing."

I sighed heavily, my back to him, "I shouldn't keep Ezio waiting."

A hand landed on my shoulder, "Jessica, are you _safe?_" I turned to see his eyes filled with concern and worry for me.

I smiled, my heart warming, "I am," I bluffed. How could I answer that honestly when I was far from sure myself? I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into but there was no way I was going to tell him that.

After a moment of staring hard into my eyes, his face relaxed into a small smile, "Good. Where are you going with him?" he asked me suddenly. I opened my mouth to explain, but then closed immediately with a snort of laughter. How would kind, gentle, innocent Leonardo take it if I told him that I was going to a brothel with a strange man?

'…An inn he and his family are staying at."

"Oh, what is it called?"

"Uhh…the-innocent-and-totally-not-a-brothel-inn?" I mumbled quickly accompanying it with a shit-eating grin.

"_Mi dispiace?"_ Leonardo asked, looking awfully suspicious. With a laugh I walked over and oh-so-graciously pushed him out the door.

"I should probably hurry, eh? Don't want to keep the man waiting." I grinned, quickly shutting the door on him.

I changed quickly and made my way down stairs to find the White Hood, or Ezio, whatever, and Leo bent conspicuously over something at the table, their backs to me.

Walking closer, I saw that Leonardo was fiddling something while Ezio looked on in interest. Neither of the two even noticed I was there until I was standing right at their back, glancing over Leo's shoulder to see what was going on.

"What's that?" I asked, stepping back with a wry smile as the two men jumped and spun around to see me, their eyes wide in surprise.

"_Angelo_, you startled me!" Leo patted his chest and tried to slow his breathing.

"Marietta, _buon giorno_. Are you ready to leave?" Ezio inquired politely. I noted pleasantly that his hood was pulled back for the first time, and that beneath it was an olive skinned man with a strong nose, brow and jaw, soulful, amber-coloured eyes rimmed with dark lashes, and the most shapely, pouty lips I had ever seen on a person of either gender. These lips, I noticed, were scarred on the right side; a thin but jagged cut running from above his upper lip, to the edge of his bottom lip. It hadn't healed cleanly or well, but it gave his face a kind of character. In short, he was a very attractive young man.

I nodded in affirmation, "Yeah, but what's all this? What are you two up to?" Leo stepped aside to let me see what looked like some sort of blade and an armband. "What is it?"

"A retractable blade, Jes—Marietta!" Leo quickly corrected himself with a glance toward Ezio, before his eyes began to sparkle with enthusiasm as he explained to me how he thought it must work, how Ezio had brought it to him, and how he was going to fix it. Briefly, he showed me a very old piece of parchment with a design on it, labelled with writing in a language I couldn't read. It looked Arabic or Indian or something, I really wasn't sure.

I glanced over at Ezio who had been quiet all this time and tilted my head curiously, "Where'd you get it?"

He was silent for a moment before he answered tightly; "It was my father's."

"Oh…" We lapsed into silence, me not knowing what to say, Ezio lost in his thoughts. Leo stood awkwardly to the side. At last, he clapped his hands, capturing both of our attention.

"Don't you two have somewhere to be then? Ezio, I will have this fixed before the evening for you."

"_Grazie_, Leonardo."

"And _Angelo_, I want to see you back here before nightfall," he pointed at me sternly, "The guards are still looking for you no doubt and I don not know what I would do if you are hurt." He shook his red beret topped head, stepping forward and taking my shoulders in his hands. "Please…_fare attenzione_. Ezio, you will look after her." Leo didn't ask, but command.

"Of course, _signore_." Ezio bowed his head respectfully, "I will guard her with my life."

"_Faresti meglio, ragazzo_." Leo told him sternly as he turned back to me, pulling me to him and hugging me gently, "You be careful," he murmured in my ear.

I closed my eyes, hugging him back and smiling. "I'll be fine. Don't worry."

"I hope so."

Ezio and I bid Leonardo farewell and then left, falling into step beside each as we made our way in silence to the _La Rosa Colta._

There were people everywhere, doing their shopping, delivering letters, just hanging out… almost like back home. Except this wasn't back home. I still wasn't convinced that this wasn't a crazy town, I mean honestly what else could it logically be? A sudden tingle from my left hand brought the mark to my attention. The dark golden, shimmering circle lined with thin, intricate patterns. I had doubts that it was a tattoo, but I had no clue as to where I acquired it or what it could be otherwise. I hadn't given much thought to it. There was no point wasting time on theories when I had no way to acquire the answers. I tilted my hand slightly forward and back and watched it shine.

"What is that?"

I dropped my hand quickly by my side and pulled it into a fight fist, my head snapping around to look wide eyed and completely innocently at Ezio, "Nothing."

With his hood down I couldn't see his reaction to my obvious lie and discomfort, but he said nothing more on the subject. I slowed slightly to walk just behind him to make things less awkward for myself.

I inspected him then, taking note of his height –he was a head and a half taller than me – and the way he moved his body. He seemed to prowl along, brushing through the crowds effortlessly. His broad shoulders, accented by the cut of his richly embroidered off-white tunic pulled in sharply at his waist and was wrapped with a thick red sash beneath a very strange belt. The back of the tunic reached down the back of his legs to cut off at his knees, and I noticed that the underside of this was red as well. The brown, short cape which hung across his left shoulder was a beautiful, deep red beneath, and his sleeves were light and loose, pulling in at the cuffs. He cut an imposing figure, and many of the people in the crowd I saw were intentionally keeping their distance from the tall, strong, hooded and intimidating man and I didn't blame them.

Ezio stopped abruptly, his shoulders stiffening. I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong when he spun quickly to face me, taking me suddenly by the waist and moving to press me between a wall and his large chest, leaning over me and lowering his head so as to imitate lovers embracing. My heartbeat quickened as I felt his heat around me and his quite stinky breath on my face. I heard him shushing me quietly, and I stayed still beneath him, keeping my breathing steady as I stared at the material of his collar and avoiding making eye contact with the plunging neckline and the darkly haired, olive skinned chest it revealed. I heard a loud group of armoured men march past us. Guards, I assume. After a long few moments of slow, careful breathing, I couldn't hear them any longer, and after a subtle glance over his shoulder, Ezio decided it was clear to move on.

He stepped away from me, apologising with a smirk and I accepted it with an awkward clearing of my throat and a small smile, not looking at his hooded face. We walked for sometime longer, and this time I myself was on the look out for guards, but we were lucky, and soon the red banners of _La Rosa Colta _came into sight.

Instead of knocking, Ezio barged right in, and I followed awkwardly after, my eyes running over every surface. The woman, Paola, whom I assumed to be the madam of the brothel, greeted me politely before she and Ezio fell deep into conversation. For a moment I stood to the side, unsure.

"Marietta!" I looked to a smiling little boy, the kid, Petruccio, whom I just noticed had a shockingly bad haircut who was making his way down the stairs holding the hand of a young woman wearing a yellow dress. Her dark hair was pulled back extravagantly and her face showed signs of great grief, no matter how hard she had obviously tried to cover it with makeup. There were bags underneath her bloodshot eyes, and the corners of her mouth were turned down.

"Hey kiddo," I smiled in greeting, pleased to see that he looked remarkably better than he had yesterday. However I noted that he seemed pale and very tired, and there was a seriousness in his eyes that one would not usually associate with children. Or young teenagers. Preteens. Whatever.

"You know Claudia? She is Federico, Ezio and I's sister," the kid introduced happily. I blinked and turned to her, a polite smile on my face.

"We have met," Claudia spat dryly. My eyebrows rose and my head tilted to the side in confusion, smile fading quickly as she looked me up and down disdainfully.

"We have?" I asked, utterly baffled.

"Yes, do not pretend you do not remember," she said sharply, her upper lip curling back in a barely suppressed snarl. I gaped, taken aback and completely at a loss. Something was seriously going on here. Here we had yet another person who claims to know me as Marietta. I was growing slightly more than concerned at this fact.

"Um… alrighty, then," I cleared my throat uneasily, averting my eyes and squashing the rising panicked confusion. Claudia's brown eyes were like daggers.

"Would you like to see Federico, now?" the kid asked, "He has been waiting all morning for you to come back!" he told me, taking my hand and leading me toward the same room the Ezio and I had carried Federico into yesterday.

"He has not stopped asking about you!" he laughed. As we walked, I was painfully aware of the glaring Claudia behind me, her dagger eyes stabbing into my back.

I got a couple of looks as I made my way to Federico's room, mostly of the suggestive type from men already surrounded by women. I did my best to ignore them, averting my eyes and focusing on the wooden door at the end of the hall. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of the place and dodged out of the way of a bald man who had just walked out of the door to our right, looking quite pleased with himself. My wrinkle turned into a full-on cringe of disgust as he winked at me before moving on. Oh dear god. Revolting.

The kid let go of my hand as he walked straight in the half open door, and as I hesitated, Claudia brushed past me, her nose in the air, looking down at me condescendingly. From where I stood in the doorway, all I could see was the left window, the chest of drawers, and a thin strip of the left side of the maroon coloured bed covers. On the floor next to the bed was a pair of big, expensive dark leather boots. The window and curtain were open, and I could hear the faint murmur from the people on the streets as a gentle breeze blew into the room, causing the material hanging from the roof to sway.

Suddenly I was nervous, apprehensive. Again, the option to leave was there in my thoughts. To leave them to their own story, to make my own. I should be trying to find a way out of this crazy town and back home. I frowned. I should be _wanting_ to go back home.

I looked down at myself. Didn't I care? I hadn't even really thought about the fact that I had no idea how I got here or where here even was. I didn't know how I acquired the strange tattoo on my hand or why it was that I was experiencing bouts of schizophrenia which was somehow associated to a painful sensation originating from said tattoo. I didn't know who this Marietta was or why everyone seemed to think I was her. There were so many things I didn't understand and was sure that I needed to figure out, but… they just didn't seem all that important and I couldn't explain why.

What I did know, however, was that I had saved the lives of two people, almost three. I had become fast friends with a man who went by the name Leonardo Da Vinci and who, as far as I could tell, was one of the kindest, most intelligent and compassionate people I knew and who didn't want me to get hurt or leave.

_You are needed here, Jessica._ My eyes widened as the voice appeared in my mind as my left palm burned. I didn't want to believe that I had a mental illness but honestly what else could it be? There couldn't seriously be some woman talking telepathically to me inside my head.

"Who are you?" I whispered, but got no response.

"Marietta?" the kid stared up at me with confusion.

"Are you coming in or not?" Claudia snapped.

_They need you. We need you. You must stay._

"You can't make me stay, can you? You need me to make the choice. I'm in control here," I murmured, the realisation that even if I was going crazy and voices were telling me to do things, they couldn't actually make me do a thing.

"Marietta?" I looked down at the curious, worried eyes of the kid, "What is wrong?" he asked, taking my hand. I didn't answer.

_Stay._

I looked down into the kid's confused eyes, and then up into Claudia's suspicious ones, and sighed, the answer obvious to me, "Yeah. I'm fine." I smiled at him, letting go of his hand to ruffle his hair, wondering if he would let me cut it into something less shoulder-lengthed with a straight fringe and more short and spiky. He grinned up at me as I walked past him and into the room.

There was no incense in the corner today, and there was no need for candles, so I couldn't even blame this on a foggy mind. I guess I was staying. Got nothin' better to do anyway, I guess, I thought sardonically.

_Thank you_, came the voice.

"_Buon Giorno_, Marietta!"

I smiled politely at Federico as I came to stand by his bedside, in front of the window, glancing at Claudia and her dagger eyes.

"How are you?" I asked him, looking him over. There was an army of pillows propping him up into a sitting position on the bed and a thin maroon sheet covering his body, and through the material, I could see how they had bandaged his right leg.

The fact that he was bare-chested and wore nothing but a rolled up pair of brown trousers did not escape my attention but it didn't distract me, either. I was not here for, nor was I interested in hanky-panky of any kind with anyone. I had far more important things to deal with.

Federico smiled hugely at me, "Fantastic," he replied, "now that you're here." Before I knew what was happening, Federico had grabbed my arm and tugged me down onto the bed next to him. I struggled to keep my legs away from his own as he flung an arm around me and held me close to his side, pressing his lips to my head.

So apparently I was the only one uninterested.

I heard Claudia scoff before she began ushering the kid to leave. She glared at me as they left, and the kid grinned, waving. Claudia closed the door solidly behind them and we were alone. I sat awkwardly beneath Federico's arm, my legs mostly hanging from the side of the bed, away from his injured appendage.

"How's your leg?" I decided to ask him.

"Paola gave me something to ease the pain. It is not as bad as it looked," he told me, his voice soft above my head. I scoffed doubtfully, trying to calm my heartbeat as my body reacted in every unwelcome way to his.

"Really? 'Cause it looked really bad."

I felt him shrug, "It was a clean cut."

"Through your _leg_." I turned to look up at him just in time to see his face darken and become serious. His eyes were a dark brown, unlike Ezio's and almost identical to the kid's, and they seemed to see straight through my own.

We were silent for a long while, the only sound the people outside, and the gentle rhythm of our breaths. I gazed up at him then, noting the olive skin, strong chin, nose and forehead, the dark, expressive eyes, the pouty lips and the dark brown shaggy hair. The shadow of hair could be seen across his upper lip, down the sides of his jaw and cheeks and on his chin. Across his nose, just below the bridge, was a red discolouring which could have been anything from a birthmark to a burn scar. It gave his face character, and I decided I liked it.

"My father… he is dead," he said softly. I gazed sadly up at his face. He wasn't looking at me now, instead staring straight ahead blankly. "I am still expecting him to walk through that door with mother at his side, and scold me for getting myself hurt," his voice shook and I patted his lower thigh gently, offering some kind of comfort.

"I feel as if I should be thankful. Mother, Claudia, Ezio and Petruccio…we are all here, safe. And you…you are in my arms," He paused, sniffing. "You saved us, Marietta. You tried to save father," his voice cracked and I heard him take a long, shaky breath before he continued, "I will take my family to Monteriggioni, to my uncle. We will be safe there…" he paused, and I stayed quiet, knowing he wanted to say more.

"Marietta, I understand how much you have given up already, truly. But I have thought this through; it is not safe for you to be here. The guards will be looking for you, and if they find you…" I felt him shake his head and press his lips to my hair again, "I want you to come with me. I can keep you safe. I _need_ to keep you safe."

My stomach dropped and I held back a groan as the obviousness of this situation hit me in the face like a ton o' bricks. Ah, crap man. He's got feelings for Marietta. Who he thinks I am. Feelings. Deep down, sappy, sickening feelings. Feelings that a boy feels for a girl when he likes her. When he_ like _likes her. Oh my god. What was I supposed to do? This was such a goddamn mess. I had assumed the easiest thing to do was keep playing along as Marietta as that's what Leo had done, but now that romance was involved? I couldn't just come out and say that I wasn't who he thought I was; that somehow he had mixed up the girl he fancied, possibly even loved, with me.

At my long silence, Federico grew tense, his arm tightening around my shoulders and his chest muscles clenching against my side. It was as if he were terrified that I'd reject the idea. Which I planned to. But the toned muscles of the tanned bodied shirtless man next to me was making it hard for my brain to form coherent sentences of rejection. God, if it wasn't some druggy incense fogging up my mind it was a shirtless Italian gazing down at me with deep dark brown eyes with his arm over my shoulders and his warmth and scent everywhere. Screw the more important things to worry about. I was only human.

"Marietta, if you stay it will be only a matter of time until the guards of Florence hunt you down and throw you in prison. They will gather up your family and friends and name them conspirators in your treasonous acts against the city. You will be hung. Just as we were going to be," he told me, his voice serious but gentle.

I suddenly felt sick, horror spreading throughout my body.

"They'll take Leonardo?" I whispered. My heart thudded painfully at the mere thought of seeing Leonardo's limp body, his lifeless eyes. The possibility hadn't even crossed my mind but now that he had mentioned it, it seemed painfully obvious. I had put not only myself, but also Leo in danger.

"Leonardo?" Federico asked, sounding suddenly very confused, "The painter?"

I ignored him, my mind flashing through a million and one still-frames at once. I saw my mother crying into Jasmin's shoulder whilst tears streamed silently down her own face. I saw hundreds of strangers' faces looking down at me, pity in their eyes. I saw myself sobbing over a grave, a wilted rose in my hand. I clenched my eyes closed, trying to block them out. No, that could never happen. Not again. I would not lose another father.

I swallowed hard again, trying to tune into what Federico was saying and failing. If I didn't leave with him and his family, Leonardo would die. But could I really leave innocent, adorable Leo by himself? No.

Did I want to? God, no. And did I want to have to try and figure out how to deal with Federico's obvious infatuation with the woman whom he mistakenly believed me to be? Dear _god,_ no.

But I couldn't take the chance.

I sighed heavily, shuffling carefully out from under his arm, swinging my legs down over the edge of the bed with my hands clenched down on the blanket on either side of me. I sat there with my head down and my back to Federico, wondering when and how everything got so wrong so fast.

"Marietta?"

I cringed at the name that wasn't mine. I turned my head slightly toward the door, staring painfully at the floor.

_We're sorry for your pain and confusion._

You need to tell me what's happening here. All of it. Now.

_Soon. _

I leant forward to rest my elbows on my knees and brought my left hand up to my chin, fingering my lips worriedly while the other hand flopped down toward my opposite leg. We sat there in silence for a long time, me, thinking, and Federico doing god-knows-what. Finally, I sighed and looked over my right shoulder at him, a mournful look on my face, "Alright…when do we leave?"

His face broke out in a wide smile, and I had to look away.

I shook my head as I slowed to a stop in the main foyer of the brothel, wiping my hands down my face.

"Marietta!"

My hands dropped and I shot a wry smile at the kid as he ditched Claudia on the couch and hurried over to me, taking a hold of my hand. "What did you and Federico talk about?" he asked, smiling widely up at me.

Claudia rose and walked to stand near us, her dagger-eyes still on full-blast, "Yes, what _did_ you two talk about?"

I stared straight back at her, still feeling sick to my stomach as the still-frames of the past and possible future continued to fly through my brain. "He asked me to come with you to your uncle's. He said it was too dangerous for me to stay."

Claudia scoffed and waved a hand, still glaring, "_Please_. Your father owns half of this city. You could kill the Pope and get away with it." I surprised her by letting out a small chuckle at that, not able to conjure enough energy to raise concerns about this so-called 'father' of mine, or I guess, Marietta's. Her glare softened as she scanned my face fully.

"Yeah, well, it's not really me I'm worried about." The two looked at me in silence, Claudia's dagger-eyes dead. I glanced down at the kid's confused face and shot him another crooked smile. His face cleared and he smiled back as Claudia stomped closer, shoving her face in my own and staring straight into my eyes with suspicion.

"You are different, Marietta Sanfilippo. Your face, your eyes, even the way you hold yourself," she glanced down at my body, "And _what _are you wearing?"

"Pants," I laughed softly at the look on her face. She shook her head in disbelief.

"What has happened to you to make you change so?"

To that I just shrugged, giving the kid's hand a gentle squeeze and getting one in return. Claudia shook her head again and I glanced at her hair, wondering for a moment what it was that made it stay exactly where it was when she moved. "Well, I do not trust you," she told me with a small frown, that shocked me by turning into a small smile, "But I like this new you. Plus, you did save my brothers," her smile faded as she looked at me sadly, "and Ezio told me that you tried to save my father, as well… thank you, for that. Thank you so much."

I nodded once to her, accepting her thanks before reaching out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder as fresh tears sprung to her red-rimmed eyes. "I'm sorry," I murmured, pain and empathy tugging at my heart. She nodded, wiping at the tears and sniffing, "Well. There is nothing to do about it now," she said strongly, her voice only quaking slightly. I dropped my hand from her shoulder as I watched her re-compose herself, admiration flowing through me. "What else did Federico say to you?" she asked me, her voice and facial features showing an almost overwhelming amount more respect and kindness than before.

I blinked at the sudden change, "Um, he said that we would leave soon, the actual day depending on when he's able to walk on his own without falling to the ground and screaming like a baby."

An amused smile flickered on her face at that, and the kid giggled. "So we'll be here for a while yet," Claudia nodded, accepting this and not realizing the danger our waiting would hold for us. I decided to keep the information to myself while the kid was around. I didn't really want to upset him anymore than necessary. I spent the rest of the day with the two, laughing and talking and getting to know them and ultimately, aiming to keep our minds as far from reality as possible.

O

Ezio watched her from afar as she wove skilfully through the streets, her high pony-tail swinging gently in time with her slender hips and brushing against her lower back, just above the curve of her ass.

It had not been difficult to track her through the streets, for even as he watched, the crowds seemed to part for her. Men and women stepped almost subconsciously aside when she neared. And even with the movements, none of the patrols she passed even gave her a second glance.

Ezio's eyes narrowed in suspicion. What magic was at work here? His mind was lost in thought as his body followed her almost subconsciously. He moved when she moved; sped up and slowed to match her pace.

"Is it magic?" he wondered aloud, "…Or is it her?" Marietta definitely had an imposing presence, at least, she did before she had supposedly ran away, and had shown up with _Messer_ Leonardo in his workshop, of all places. Her hair tied up away from her face and her expensive dress replaced with a lowly courtesan's attire. Very rarely in his life had Ezio seen a woman in pants. It just wasn't done.

From what Ezio had seen of Marietta, it was clear that she thrived in the attention she was adorned with as a result of her beauty, and also that she held no love for _Messer _Leonardo or his talents. So what had happened between the two that the man would use such endearments as_ angelo,_ so casually in the presence of another? How was it possible that in such a small amount of time, the girl had changed so much?

At that moment, Ezio realized he was being hypocritical. After all, look at how much he had changed. He had taken multiple lives; was a wanted criminal, was hiding his family in a brothel, was grieving the loss of his father, and burning with rage and lust for the blood of the men responsible. He shook his head, clearing it of such thoughts. He had to concentrate on the moment. He had to concentrate on getting his family to Monteriggioni and then on to Spain.

Ezio watched over her carefully as she returned to the painter's workshop, her previously happy expression becoming anxious. Not afraid, but worried, an expression Ezio had never seen on the face of the noble brat.

He watched as she broke from the path formed by the crowd and ascended the two small steps up to the workshop's entrance door. There Marietta hesitated, running a hand through her long, dark hair.

Standing on the rooftop of the building directly opposite the workshop, Ezio found his eyes drawn to her, even more so than before. She was truly something to look at…If only it could be his own fingers running though her hair, following it down her back to her waist, and those hips—Ezio stopped himself with guilty thoughts of his brother. He had seen the taken look in his bed-ridden brother's eyes as he asked to him guard her secretly as she walked home. It was a look he knew well.

Ezio watched as Marietta finally sighed and disappeared through the heavy door of the painter's home.

He stepped back from the edge of the roof and began to make his way back to_ La Rosa Colta_. He owed her after she saved his brothers so bravely. He owed it to her to keep her safe. And through her, Federico's heart.

"_Fratello_! You're back! Is she—?" Federico perked up as Ezio walked quietly through the bedroom door. He put a hand up to silence his brother.

"She is fine. Safe and sound with the painter," he told him.

"The painter? Leonardo?" Ezio nodded to Federico's question.

Federico went silent, a small frown on his face. Breathing in deeply, Ezio summoned his courage, "Brother, does Marietta seem… different, at all?"

Federico's eyes shot to his, amber on brown, and his frown deepened, "Yes, I guess she does."

Ezio nodded again, "Somehow... quieter, more thoughtful. And of course, there's the fact that she's living with _Messer_ Leonardo."

"She's actually_ living _with him?"

"_Si_. I wonder if her father knows."

"But she does not even _like_ the painter! She refuses to go to his workshop or to let him even paint her portrait…" he shook his head, slumping against the pillows behind him.

"I swear, Ezio, women get more and more complicated the closer you get to them." Even though Ezio could see that Federico was frustrated, he could see the gentleness in his eyes as he thought of Marietta. He smiled and shook his head, purposefully patting Federico's injured leg gently once, causing the elder brother to fly forward and take a hold of it with both hands, swearing on the top of his lungs.

Ezio laughed, ignoring the insults and threats shot at him, "Amen, brother."

A

I walked through the door, ready to come face-to-face with Leo and be bombarded with questions, but instead, I was met with an empty room. I closed the front door behind me and looked around the empty workshop, wondering if he was out on an errand all by himself.

"Jessica? Is that you?" I heard.

"Leo?" I asked in confusion, stepping further into the room. "Where are you?"

"I am underneath the table."

One of my eyebrows rose. "Oh. Of course!" I rolled my eyes, walking over to the largest table in the middle of the room and bending at the waist, grabbing a hold of the edge of the table and looking beneath. "What are you doing?" I smiled at him where he was lying on his back, his cape spread out around him and his beret askew.

"I'm painting!" he cried happily.

"Upside down?" I laughed.

"Well, they say it is healthy to try new things! And it really is great fun!" I moved into a squat above him, shaking my head.

"You've got paint all over your face," I told him, but he just shrugged, getting back to his painting. In one hand he held the paintbrush and the other his platter, covered in dark paints. I watched him as he worked, noticing that whenever he didn't like what he had done his face darkened dramatically, and he cursed underneath his breath. My eyes softened and my eyebrows turned up mournfully. I was gonna miss him so much. I had formed such a strong attachment to him in such a short amount of time… It was so unfortunate and entirely unfair.

I cleared my throat, "Y'know, I heard of this guy, Michelangelo. He painted the entire roof of a church, all by himself, all upside down."

Leo stopped and his eyes brightened, "Really? By himself?"

I smiled, nodding, "Yep. It took him four whole years."

"Amazing…"

"Hmm…" I glanced at the window, noticing how dark it had gotten. "Y'know, it's getting late Leonardo. Don't stay up too late with this."

"Of course. _Buona notte_, _Angelo_."

"Na-night." I straightened up and made my way up the stairs, glancing back at Leo as he swore loudly and began painting furiously. I giggled, shaking my head.

In my room I tugged off my boots and clothes, dropping my money pouch on the bedside table next to my dagger. Collapsing on the bed I sighed, tucking myself in and quickly fell asleep, dully hoping that tonight would be nightmare free. Not a chance.


	8. Chapter 7

_Daniel Raso was a man of 39 years, he had blue eyes and messy brown hair that was always the colour of tar when he came home from the mines exactly three hours late each evening. He worked hard and slept little, but always had a smile for his wife and children, and would listen to their stories and play with them and read to them until they finally passed out. _

_Daniel would then take a shower and watch the blackness and dirt his tired body had collected during the day swirl around his feet and down the drain. Afterwards he'd collapse onto the couch where his wife would give him leftovers from dinner several hours earlier and a bottle of Jack Daniels, grumble about how late his work was keeping him and then throw in a few choice words while ranting about how, when she imagined their future together, he was home everyday in time for dinner, and he'd be there in the mornings to help get their children ready for school and now instead, she was stuck doing everything like a 50s housewife. He'd take a couple of swigs from his bottle before putting his now empty plate to the side, set down his bottle next to it, grab his wife by the hips and trap her in his arms where she was, seated on his lap. _

_She'd glare. He'd give her that self-satisfied grin that she secretly loved._

_And then they'd lose themselves in each other. _

_Each day it was the same, he'd go to work, he'd come back, he'd kiss her silly. It was their routine, and they were perfectly happy with it being that way. _

_Until, one day, it wasn't._

_It was a Friday. His family were all waiting by the door exactly three hours after dinner. An hour passed and Daniel still wasn't home. As one, the children all looked to their mother who just smiled reassuringly at them, and they continued to wait. By the time the clock struck five hours after dinner, they were all worried. And when the phone rung, their worry turned into a sort of terrified apprehension. _

_The mother answered it and her children all crowded around as her face changed from one of confusion, then to disbelief, then to horror. Everything was silent._

_Daniel's wife placed the phone back on the hook, stared at it for a long while and then, she collapsed onto the ground, weeping inconsolably. _

_Daniel Raso was walking through a long, dark corridor, carrying a bag over his strong shoulder and a helmet upon his head. It was cold and lifeless in that mine where he was, surrounded by rock. _

_The last thing he heard was this loud rumbling noise, the last thing he felt was terror, the last thing Daniel saw was his family all smiling out at him from the little picture he always held in his shirt pocket, right above his heart. _

_There was a loud, high pitched ringing sound, and then the sound of a car's blaring horn.  
_

My eyes shot open, my sight bleary as I slowly took in my room as I saw it where I laid on my side. I frowned at the corner of the dresser and then moved my eyes up to the window, where the light curtains were floating gently into the room with the wind. I brought one hand up to rub at my eyes before gently pushing myself up into a sitting position.

I sat there in the darkness in complete silence.

What was that?

I pushed the covers from my body and swung my legs around, over the edge of the mattress staring at my bare knees.

_T'was just a dream. Go back to sleep, Jessica._

I ignored the voice, pushing myself off of the bed and moving to stand by the window. I pushed the curtains aside and looked out at the buildings of Florence. My arms crossed over my chest as my hair was lifted by the cool night breeze. I lifted my eyes to the sky and sighed in amazement at the millions of stars I saw there. The wonder quickly faded as my gaze immediately searched for the Southern Cross. My Southern Cross.

It wasn't there.

Nothing was the same. Not even the stars. This wasn't Australia. This was wrong.

My stomach felt heavy and I lowered my gaze, just in time to see a flash of white disappear behind a chimney, still spewing out black smoke on top of a building to the right. I stood up straighter, a frown creasing my forehead as I turned my complete attention to that chimney.

Was it my imagination?

_T'was just a dream. Go back to sleep._

I felt a slight tug on my left arm's bicep, and I quickly turned to look for the hand that accompanied the feeling. I looked behind me in confusion, but there was no one there. I lowered my gaze to my palm, my eyes darkening as I saw the circle there, glowing steadily. I clenched my fist and glanced back out the window. I immediately spotted his form, his white chest splattered in red, and my eyes widened. Was that… _blood_?

I could feel his eyes on me from beneath his white hood. I swallowed hard, and slowly stepped back from the window, both fists clenched and ready to run for the door and to Leo as quickly as I could. The curtains fluttered gently back down and continued their gentle billowing as if nothing had happened.

I stood there in the middle of my room for no less than five solid minutes before I quietly, calmly slid back into bed and pulled the covers up over my head. I squeezed my eyes closed and took several long, deep breaths. I slept little that night, tossing and turning and constantly imagining the White Hood soaring through my window and stabbing me with my own dagger, my own hot blood soaking the covers of my bed. All the while the car horn blared and the mine collapsed into rubble.

I was up, dressed and descending the stairs, boots in hand moments after the sun peaked over the roofs of the buildings across from the workshop. Half-way down I stopped, tilted my head in confusion, turned, and ran back up. I found myself at Leo's ajar bedroom door, looking in at the chaos that was the floor, walls and even roof of the room. And the empty bed.

Where's Leo? I looked left and right down the hall, immediately dismissing my room and the small 'study' to the immediate right of it. I walked back down the stairs, looking around the empty workplace in confusion. Leonardo is never out and about this early. He's always either asleep in bed, snoring his little heart out, or he's at his table, arguing with himself about whatever it is that he's arguing with himself about.

I dumped my boots by the bottom of the stairs and walked toward the back of the stairs, glancing through the bathroom, the kitchen and another 'study' was located. This study was so full of discontinued works that bits of paper covered in notes were sliding underneath the door and scattered across the floor. I double checked on the way back toward the workroom and stood in front of Leo's table looking around, frowning.

"Where's…?" I mumbled to myself, utterly confused. Then my gaze landed upon the smaller table off to the left of the front door which was covered in a white sheet. My face grew into a large grin, my heart beat slowing to normal. I walked over to the table, pulled back the large white sheet that wasn't there yesterday and bent over at the waist.

There Leo was, on his side, a burnt-out candle beside him and one hand underneath his head, snoring. His beret was lying on the floor above his head. My face stretched out in a large grin.

"Good morning, sunshine..." I said softly, laughing breathily as he mumbled something incoherent and then continued snoring. "Leo...Leeeeeeeeeooooooo...Leonardo. Wakey wakey..." I shook my head, "You so didn't go to bed after I told you, did ya?" I giggled. I squatted down, throwing the white sheet further back from the edge of the table before reaching out and poking the top of his head gently. "Leeeoo... c'mon..." I sung softly, poking his again, "...It's morning—"

I fell backward with a short cry as Leonardo flew up into a sitting position with a loud "WHAT?" before promptly banging his head on the bottom of the table. "GAH!" he cried, crawling out unsteadily on one hand as he rubbed the top of his head with the other.

I stood, brushing the dust from my backside and trying to hold back my laughter. "Hahaha, are... are you, okay?" I laughed. He grumbled something and swore. I chuckled softly once more before looking up to smile at him. My face dropped, tears welled in my eyes and I doubled over in hysterics.

"Yes, yes. It is very funny," he mumbled, glaring at me. I shook my head, and gestured toward his head as he huffed and puffed with his arms crossed. He was silent right up to the point where I was on my hands and knees, crying my eyes out and trying to keep control of my bladder.

"You, Jessica Raso," he began angrily, "are the most immature, childish, sadistic woman I have ever met! I let you stay in my home and eat my breakfasts and lunches and dinners and sleep in my spare bedroom and this is how you repay me? By laughing at my misfortunes? You and Marietta are exactly the same! I should throw you out onto the streets! I should call for your father! I should—"

"—Leo," I interrupted him, forcing myself to my knees and looking up at him, managing to silence my laughter for a short moment so that I could speak, "You have a paintbrush stuck to your face."

Leo reached up slowly, and as his hand came into contact with the wooden painting stick, his eyes widened in realisation and his face turned a brilliant pink. He plucked it from his cheek, and then stared at it in silence for a long moment before he looked at me, suffocating on the ground and rolled his eyes with a sigh. "I should go make you your breakfast..." he finished, shaking his head and walking out of my line of sight.

I got my breakfast of fruits, berries, bread, jam and fresh milk, gave Leonardo a giant bear hug to say sorry, and then left for _La Rosa Colta._

The walk to the brothel today was different; there were twice as many guards as before, and less normal people walking around. I found myself having to duck into small crowds of people to avoid the piercing eyes of the patrols, but I couldn't help staring in a sort of horrified amazement as the unbelievably large armoured men with the giant axes clanked past. There were guards knocking upon doors and shoving flyers into the surprised faces of the owners within.

There was also the unwelcome feeling of being watched. A shiver ran down my spine as I chanced a glance behind me, flashes of the night before running through my mind. The White Hood. Whose blood was on his hands? I ducked my head and hurried my pace.

The moment I walked through the door of the brothel, all thoughts of the White Hood vanished as I took in the view of his brother failing to limp around the foyer without landing on his face. Paola stood by the couches to the right looking concerned whilst Claudia stood beside her ranting loudly about how much of an idiot he was.

I froze in the door way, wondering who had been stupid enough to let him get out of bed, let alone walk around the place only two days after he sustained his injury.

Federico pushed himself off from the wall where he was leaning, straightened himself up and put one foot out to take a step—.

I rushed forward and caught the man around the waist just before he connected with the ground. "What are you _doing?"_ I cried, heaving him up whilst trying not to pay attention to his large hands settling comfortably on my body, one on my shoulder and the other on my hip. He lifted his head to look up at me, his face glistening with sweat and his eyes filled with pain that soon turned into something else as he saw who I was.

A smirk spread across his face, "Marietta. _Buon giorno_."

My own face darkened. "What are you doing?" I repeated darkly, "There is no way you should be walking around!"

He stood up tall, balancing on his one good leg as he shrugged, "I grew bored without your company." I was painfully aware of his hand on my hip and of the other near my neck, where his thumb gently rubbed over my collarbone. I kept the scowl on my face.

"So you decided to try and kill yourself?" I growled before whispering to myself, "Stupid." Not knowing whether I was calling him stupid or me stupid. Probably both.

I heaved him over to the couch and all but threw him down, shooting a glare at the two girls who just shrugged. I growled under my breath as I detached Federico's hands from my body, before standing over him with my hands on my hips, glaring. He just smirked up at me.

I let out a breath of anger and shook my head in disgust. "Federico, do you know how important it is for us to get out of the city? There are _twice_ as many guards out there than there were yesterday!" I spat out, pointing furiously at the door. Federico's face dropped.

"There are guards knocking at people's doors now, and I have no doubt that soon, they're gonna start searching houses. Us just being here is risking the lives of every single person in this building, and all that is delaying us from leaving this place is _you,_" I pointed accusingly at him. "You need to rest that leg of yours, you hear me? Not be stupid and walk around on it. It needs time to heal. And so do you." Federico's eyes dropped from mine, looking crestfallen.

I sighed, "Claudia, could you please take him back to his room?"

She sighed dramatically before helping him stand and leading him from the room, whispering harshly under her breath as they went. I turned to Paola, "Has his leg even stopped bleeding yet?" I asked, exasperated and more than a bit annoyed. I glared at her from the corner of my eye.

She didn't answer, but said instead, "You truly care about him, don't you?"

I humph-ed and rolled my eyes, "I care about everyone. It's one of my biggest faults."

"Feeling compassion for life is not a fault. You have a big heart, Marietta. It is something strange to see after all of the stories I have heard about you."

I turned my head, not meeting her eyes.

It was a good week and a half before Federico was deemed fit to walk, and to leave. I didn't know who was playing doctor to him nor whether or not they had actually passed their doctorate but I highly doubted it. There was no way in hell, had I been his doctor, that I would have let that man move for at least a month. His leg injury was no scratch and I had been there to observe his attempts to prove that he could walk on it; I had seen the agony he hid behind his bravado. I was afraid that he would only serve to injure himself further and more permanently. Federico, Paola and I decided to leave in the early morning, just after the sun had risen.

"The guards'll be tired and grumpy and they won't be bothered searching every single person who comes and goes from the city," I concluded, determination blazing in my blue eyes. Paola and Federico nodded in agreement, surprisingly enough.

Paola went upstairs, presumably to tell Claudia and the kid, Petruccio of the plan, but Federico just sat there, gazing at me. I cleared my throat uncomfortably and subtly flinched away as he raised a hand to stroke my face. I quickly moved away, uncomfortable and guilty. I stood, bid him goodnight, and left, realising that I had to finally tell Leo what was happening. I had still not told him that I was leaving, for I didn't want him to let me go.

The guards had searched Leonardo's workshop the day before, and they were none too gentle about it. They upturned chairs, upset important documents, and unbound all of the bodies in the corner, checking and double that each one was dead. Leonardo had sworn and raged over it until the moment he passed out on the couch and I hadn't been able to stop laughing until I passed out next to him.

I had arrived from _La Rosa Colta_ no less than an hour ago, and had had a bath, changed into my pyjama shirt and had kept putting it off until after we had had dinner. And then, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Leonardo?"

"_Si?"_ His head was bent low over whatever he was working on, his quill was scribbling furiously across the paper, from right to left. He seemed deep in thought.

I took a deep breath in, ridiculously nervous. "The Auditore's are going to live with their uncle," I told him, not wanting to give him too much information. I had seen my movies. Giving him too much information could put him in a lot of danger.

"Oh?" I saw his eyebrows rise but he didn't look up, clearly not catching my drift.

I licked my lips and shifted uncomfortably. "They want me to go with them," I finally got out.

Leonardo's quill slipped form between his fingers and from where I stood I could see that whatever he had been writing had been ruined by a thick smudge of black ink. The quill hit the table with a small clunk, it being the only sound in the workshop besides the crackling of the fire. I stared at Leonardo, my eyebrows upturned, worriedly. He still didn't look up. I watched as his hands clenched tightly into fists. "Leo?" I asked softly. At last, his head rose and his blue eyes searched mine. The look of hurt on his face tugged at my heart. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

His mouth opened and closed twice before he asked, "Do you want to go?" His voice was soft and deep, and monotonous, not at all like his usual self.

I stared at him for a long moment, wondering at his question myself. Then I shook my head, "No," I answered honestly, my voice still quiet. There was tension in the air, thick and muscle-stiffening, I couldn't move if I wanted to. "But I have to. It's too dangerous for me to stay here after what I did. For me, and for you."

Leonardo's eyes and head lowered again, but I could see him nodding. His shoulders were tense and his hands were still in fists. "When do you leave?"

I took another deep breath in, moving my eyes to gaze at the pile of indecipherable pages hanging precariously off the edge of the table. "Tomorrow morning, while the guards are still half asleep."

I saw him nodding again. "The most desirable time… the men will be struggling to keep their eyes open, and their wits will not be about them," he said slowly, the monotone still in his voice.

The corner of my mouth turned up as I nodded in agreement. "Yeah. That's what I said…" I shrugged.

His head rose again as he smiled sadly at me. My heart skipped a beat, and then another, and then I was swallowing and swallowing at the lump in my throat and it wasn't going down…

In the end all I could do was hold back the waterworks. I have to leave, I told myself. There's no other choice.

I silently watched as Leonardo walked stiffly around the table, and then came to stand in front of me, not looking at my face. I stared at his bright red beret atop his dark golden hair, swearing not to cry, no matter what. I won't. I won't.

Then he raised his head, and blue met blue. He laid his hands on my cheeks, and the sadness in his face made the lump grow so much that I could barely breathe. His voice was soft, but I could hear the emotion in it. I could hear how it shook and wobbled as he, like I, fought for control. He was clearly better at it than I.

"You go, and you stay safe, you hear me? I command it. You will stay safe, and you will stay unharmed, and if you do not, Jessica, I swear to the Lord I will find you and I will kill you myself," he let in a shuddering breath, blinking hard for a moment. "Do not think for a moment that I am joking, for I am not," he paused, as tears flowed down his red cheeks. "I love you, Jessica, and I consider you family. You have my blessing and my well-wishes as you leave our home. But know, that you will always be welcome back. Always."

That did it, I started sobbing. I couldn't speak, I couldn't think, I couldn't do bloody anything. He wrapped his arms around me as we cried our goodbyes.

I was awake the next morning, far before the sun rose, far before the knock on the door.

I rose from the couch, fully dressed, breakfasted and ready, and opened the door. Claudia stood there with a small smile, and behind her was the kid, Federico, and another older woman, whom I guessed by resemblance was their mother.

I went to step out of the place but stopped. I turned to stare at the workshop. At the staircase. At the tables. At the chairs. At the fireplace. At the bookcase. I took a deep breath, and then I left.

_Not forever_.

It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be; sneaking out of Florence. The guards barely glanced at us as we hurried, not too quickly through the streets and to the gates. The gates were the hard part. There were five guards standing in our way and four guards after them.

We stopped and I looked over to Federico, with an expression asking, _'What now?_'

Federico smiled and said, "Watch this."

He sauntered –limped – over to a group of giggling prostitutes, said something to them before handing over a small pouch and then sauntering back over. I stared at him with an expression now reading; _'WTF?'_

He winked at me and inclined his head toward the guards, "Just watch."

I did. The scantily clad women strolled up to the guards, giggling and smiling and sending them smouldering looks. With a wiggle of their hips, a few compliments and a batting of their eyelashes, the guards had left their posts and were entirely entranced by the prostitutes. I chuckled as Federico gallantly took my arm and we strolled out of the gates unnoticed. But then came the White Hood. And the horses.

I read somewhere once that horses can smell your fear. That knowledge, of course, just made me even more frightened. What kind of freaky-ass creature can smell someone's emotions? Does anyone not think that's really weird? Looking around, I saw that Federico was saddled, Claudia was sitting with the kid behind her, the White Hood was up, and their mum was settled, and they all looked at me then expectantly. I focussed on the creature, who now looked down at me with a bored expression in it's hazel eyes and went, "Brrrrrrr!" while shaking it's head. I slowly made my way to the side of the horse, and stared warily at the saddle. How the hell was I supposed to get all the way up there? I looked down at the stirrups, and then up at the saddle. If I put my foot there, and my hand there. My mind made the calculations, the physics and then showed me each of the possible failures. Me falling on my face, on my butt, on my back.

Finally, I put one foot on the stirrup, one hand on the front knobby bit of the saddle and heaved myself, swinging one leg over and then steadying myself, whilst the whole time my brain recounted every swear word it knew. Suddenly, I was on a horse. I wasn't ready for the feeling of this great monster beneath me; the feeling of my legs moving against it's ribs as it breathed in and out, the warmth of it's body, the smooth softness of it's brown coat. I found myself in awe. So freaking cool.

I grabbed a hold of the reins and looked over to make sure that both of my feet were secure in the stirrups. And then, I looked up, the biggest grin of my life lighting up my face. Federico immediately smiled back, as did the kid. Claudia shook her head at me, trying to hide her own smile, and the mum just looked at me like I had grown another head. The White Hood was staring at me, but I couldn't see the expression on his face beneath his hood. I looked back to Federico. "Does he have a name?" I asked.

He laughed, "Would you like to name him?" I nodded my head furiously, causing him to laugh again.

"Alright, what—?"

"Sebastian," I answered immediately.

"Sebastian?" I nodded. Federico smiled, "Sebastian it is."

I looked down at the giant horse head in front of me and slowly, cautiously, I reached out to pat his dark mane. He was so warm. So powerful. I leant forward, toward his ear and patted him more surely now. "'Sup Sebby?" I murmured happily. He made a snorting noise and I laughed.

"Marietta!" I looked up to see that the family had started moving and after a moment, I figured out how to make Sebby follow after them. The reins felt weird in my hands, made of leather. They were attached to that little metal bit inside Sebby's mouth. They controlled him.

_They do not. Nothing can truly control him. Nor you._

I nodded my head. Damn right.

And so, we began our unbelievably long ride to Monteri-Moneteree-…that place.


	9. Chapter 8

"How could this have happened to us?" Claudia asked.

"I do not know."

"Do you think we'll ever be able to return?"

"I do not know," Federico's voice was soft as he looked at his sister, fatigue clear in his eyes.

The White Hood, Ezio, rode at the front of the group, a good five metres from the rest of us and he hadn't spoken a word nor glanced my way since we arrived. A man of mystery, that one. The kid, Petruccio, had fallen asleep behind Claudia, and she held onto his clasped hands where they were around her waist as she continued to question Federico. I could see the pain and weariness in the eldest brother's eyes as he answered his sister and as I turned my gaze to inspect the tight, high shoulders of Ezio before me and the lowered head of their mother, Maria, I wondered if Claudia wasn't voicing the thoughts of every one of the Auditore family. Thoughts they were clearly trying to suppress. Even having lost my own father so many years ago, I could only begin to imagine the pain of their loss. My dad's death had been an accident; the collapse of a mine shaft. The autopsy revealed his body had been crushed in such a way that he died instantly. That alone had given my family solace. Their father's death, however, had not been an accident. Not in the least. The three brothers had watched their father cut down before them.

"What will happen to our house?"

"Claudia, please—" I started gently, but was interrupted.

"We don't know, Claudia!" he all but shouted at her, tugging harshly on his horse's reins and turning his head to glare at her. Claudia's face had turned to an expression of shock before her eyes filled with tears and she lowered her head and began to weep.

"Ezio!" Federico scolded his brother. The White Hood turned his horse and continued on his way. I stared wide eyed at his retreating back. Claudia continued to cry as we followed after him.

Hours passed and it felt as if we still hadn't gotten anywhere, and now, my legs hurt. It felt like the most painful chafing you had ever had the honour of receiving only doubled. Every movement of the horse caused the pain to flare, and I was hissing, 'ahh'ing and wincing along for a good half hour before we stopped for what I supposed was lunch.

The sun was right above us in the sky now, and it wasn't as gentle as I thought it would be; I had rolled my sleeves up several kilometres before and I was concerned about sunburn. The family all slid gracefully off their horses and began rifling through their saddle bags. I, on the other hand, was stuck. I was convinced now that if I even attempted to move that all of the skin on my thighs would scrape off and the blood would soak through my pants and I'd die a hot, horrible, bloody death. Sebby snorted and shook his head impatiently. I groaned softly in pain. I looked up to see Federico slightly limping over, barely concealing his laughter, and his own pain. His leg obviously hurt, probably more than mine did.

"Would you like some assistance, _bella?"_ he offered me his hand.

I was so embarrassed, and in so much pain. But I was far too proud to admit that I couldn't get of a bloody horse by myself. So, I waved his offer away and with the grace of a new-born calf, fell the thousand feet down to the ground, swearing loudly as I went, before standing up, going to take a step toward the others and swearing again under my breath as my legs collapsed beneath me. Strong arms wound around me, and the deep sound of his laughter enveloped me.

I pushed him away, blushing, and went to lean on Sebby instead. I wrapped my arms around his neck, well, as far as I could, and he turned his head to look at me curiously. I could still hear the laughter of Federico and the others while I stood there, slowly discovering that the act of standing up and letting all of the blood rush back into the chafed part of my legs just caused the pain to double, and then triple.

"Oh, leave her alone, brother." Claudia scolded.

"I didn't say anything!"

"You are laughing at the poor girl!"

"I am doing no such thing!"

"Oh, you are such a _bugiardo!"_

I let out a long, sharp hiss of pain before telling myself to suck it up. I shook my head once, hard and fast and took several long breaths. We ate our lunch of berries, bread and cheese and had a couple of swigs of water each before getting back on our horses and continuing on our way. My legs hurt. They hurt so much. They hurt more than much, they hurt like… like how much Anakin Skywalker must've hurt when he got burnt by the lava in Revenge of The Sith, like how much Wolverine must've hurt when he got all that adamantium bonded to his bones, like how Ripley must've hurt when she jumped into that pool of molten lead in Aliens 3….

We spent the night in a deserted barn, where I tossed and turned and was in constant fear of spiders and other insects crawling into my hair, ears, nose and mouth and settling there, laying eggs and making their nests. We had no more food than the remains of what the White Hood had brought for lunch, and I ended up giving the rest of my share to the miserable looking Petruccio who thanked me quietly before digging in.

The next morning we took turns washing in a small river nearby and then continued on our way. We passed quite a few people on our journey, but none seemed to recognise us. I gazed across at the green rolling hills and the lush farmland and forests beyond and thought that this all didn't seem real. We passed an orchard and the White Hood got off his horse and disappeared for several minutes before returning with a small bag of fruit, one for each of us. I noticed with some concern that he, himself didn't eat. I wondered what he was thinking and how he was coping with all he was going through. I promised myself I'd keep an eye on him.

Soon, the sun became low in the sky, and the look on Federico's tired face as he quickened his horse to ride beside me was one of relief. "We are almost there, _bella,_" he said softly, pointing across the hills to a small, high-walled town in the distance.

_"Grazie a Dio,"_ I heard Claudia sigh behind us.

I sat up straighter, rolling my shoulders and turning my head side to side, hearing the satisfying cracks. Now my back and neck hurt as well, and my legs were numb.

The hills beside the road were very high, and covered in bush. It felt as if we were in some kind of tiny valley. The dirt road was turning gently left now, and as we followed it, the hills began to flatten and suddenly the view of golden dolphins and crosses against solid blue filled my sight. My grip tightened on the reins as our little group was taken aback by the dozen or so men before us dressed in blue and gold and well armed.

"Ah, Ezio! _Buon' sera!_ And your family as well… What a pleasant surprise!" The man who spoke was shorter than the rest and had a reasonably pleasant face but for the cruel look in his eyes and the nasty smile on his lips.

"Vieri!" the White Hood snarled. I watched as Federico left my side and moved forward to sit beside him.

Oh god, we were going to die. They had us outnumbered, and we had minimal weapons. The White Hood had his sword and his retractable blade which Leonardo had spent hours repairing, and of course, I had my dagger, but what good was that going to do? I couldn't fight!

"The same," the man, who although appeared overweight, had obvious strength in his arms and legs, replied, seeming menacingly gleeful, "As soon as they released my father from custody, he was more than happy to finance this little hunting party for me. I was hurt. After all, how could you think of leaving Florence without saying a proper goodbye? After everything we've been through…" He shook his head, as if saddened by this.

The White Hood waved a hand, indicating that we three girls should move back. We complied more than happily. I looked over at Claudia to see her eyes wide with fear, and the wide awake kid behind her looking uncannily alike. Their mother seemed calm, almost disconnected. I frowned and turned back to where the men were facing off. I could almost smell the testosterone in the air.

_You need to stay out of this fight. Stay on defence. Protect your family._ That voice startled me every time.

My family? I looked over at Claudia, the kid, and their mother in confusion. They weren't who it meant, were they?

"What is it you want, Vieri?" Federico called.

The man laughed, placing his hands on his hips. "Ahh, what do I want? Where to even begin? So many things! Let's see… I'd like a larger _palazzo_, a prettier wife," he smiled, looking past the White hood to see Claudia who turned a bright shade of red and began swearing loudly at him. Vieri merely laughed, "Much more money and – what else? – Oh, yes! Your _head!_" At this, Vieri motioned for his men to stay where they were, and advanced toward the White Hood, drawing his sword.

Almost in perfect sync, the White Hood and Federico dismounted their horses. I noticed, however, how Federico's right leg seemed to falter beneath him. My brow furrowed in concern. I hoped he'd be alright.

"I'm surprised, Vieri – are you really going to take us on all alone? It's two against one, if you didn't notice. But of course your bully boys are right behind you!" the White Hood jeered. I wondered how well he was thinking this all through.

The man just laughed, sheathing his sword, "I don't think you are worthy of my sword. I think I'll just finish you off with my fists." Again, Vieri looked around Ezio to Claudia, "I am sorry if this distresses you, _tesora_. But don't worry – it won't take too long, then I'll see what I can do to comfort you." Then, for the first time, his eyes travelled to me, and I watched as they widened in shock. "Marietta Sanfilippo? What—?" He seemed completely taken by surprise and he looked at me with an expression of bafflement, but before he could say anything else, the White Hood surged forward and smashed his fist into his jaw.

Vieri staggered, taken off guard for a moment. He regained his footing and hurled himself toward the White Hood with a furious roar. His fist connected with the White Hood's shoulder. The White Hood kicked out at Vieri, making contact with his stomach. Vieri doubled over, grunting. He swung a wild punch at the White Hood, who dodged it easily. He stepped into the man, landing a fist in the soft of his belly. Vieri grabbed his tunic and flung him away. He steadied himself and raised his hands to block another wild, angry punch. Vieri aimed a jab at the White Hood's side and it landed. All the while, Federico stood on the side line, watching intently, ready to step in if it seemed that the White Hood would come out worse.

_Examine his movements,_ the voice commanded suddenly, _Watch how he dodges, how he manoeuvres his feet, how he uses his enemy's anger against him. Learn from the man. Learn how to defeat him. _

"What? Defeat who?" I asked, confused.

_Ezio Auditore,_ the voice sounded slightly exasperated. The sudden appearance of emotion surprised me. It had sounded so monotonous and authoritative before. Now it sounded almost human. Certainly feminine.

_Only when you defeat him, will you be ready._

The surprise melded into shock, "You want me to fight him? What for?"

Of course, there was no answer, just, _Watch._

I shook my head in bewilderment and frowned. There was no way that I could fight anyone and win. Especially not the White Hood, but I did as I was told.

Both men were locked together, wrestling for control, occasionally staggering back only to fling themselves at each other with renewed vigour. It was true; the White Hood was using the fat man's anger against him.

As I watched, the man threw a huge punch straight toward the White Hood's head. The White Hood stepped forward and the blow glanced uselessly off his shoulder. Vieri's momentum carried his weight forward, and the White Hood stuck his foot out, sending the Vieri's arse to the ground. I couldn't hold back a smile of amusement through my fear. The man scrambled to his feet and retreated back behind his cronies. "I tire of this," he said, as if it were his idea to finish the fight. He turned to his men, "Finish them off and the women too. But not the one wearing pants. Bring her to me," he ordered.

My eyes widened in terror. "What? What does he want me for?" I cried aloud to, taking a tighter grip on Sebastian's reins.

_Stay on your defence. Protect yourself. Do not let them take you._

The White Hood and Federico were standing before us, about a metre and a half away. The White Hood had handed his sword over to Federico and was standing there with nothing but a tiny blade attached to his wrist as Vieri's cronies ran toward him. My heart leapt in my chest, and fear swelled in my throat. And then, the battle began.

It was all happening so quickly, the sound of clashing metal filled my ears, and the pained cries of men soon joined it. The White Hood had somehow re-acquired a sword, Federico had his own and together, the brothers were making short work of Vieri's cronies, not letting any past them. It seems I had underestimated them. I watched as the White Hood parried an attack and kicked out in retaliation. The man fell painfully to the ground and was trampled by his fellows. Federico was not as aggressive. He dodged swiftly out of the way of an attack, stepping skilfully toward the man and running him through his side. The White Hood roared, leaping toward his opponents, sword held high. Federico was silent, cutting and slicing and weaving his way through the men. As I watched, I realised that Federico was significantly more disciplined and trained than his brother. Professionally, it seemed. As skilled as he was, however, it did not mask the fact that he was injured, which seemed to not be obvious only to me.

Another of Vieri's men stood forward to face Federico, a determined look upon his thin face. They circled one another. They stepped in, he parried. I grew suspicious. The man attacked high, Federico blocked it easily. The man stepped closer. My eyes grew wide. His foot rose, pulled back and connected with Federico's right shin. I swore. Federico shouted in pain, crashing to the ground, unable to continue.

"Oh god," I breathed in horror. My eyes widened. My heart thumped in my chest, aching with concern. Beneath me, Sebastian shifted about nervously, shaking his head every so often. He was as frightened as I was. There were still about half a dozen men, all trying to take the White Hood down as he moved to stand over his fallen brother. It was hopeless; there was no way he could defeat them all. Without a second thought, I dismounted Sebby, drew my dagger and strode toward the battle, feeling sure that I was going to wet myself any second.

"Marietta! What are you _doing?!"_ I heard Claudia scream in fright. I ignored her.

I didn't really know what I was going to do to help, but I knew I had to do _something_…I tried as hard as I could to not freak out as I began walking quickly toward the battle.

_Stay out of this fight. Protect yourself,_ the voice commanded.

"I have to help him." I said, not faltering in my stride.

_Jessica, __**stop**__. _

"No," I said defiantly. I had to help him; I had to help them both— my body stopped; an action that was not of my own will. I blinked in surprise and looked down at myself, searching for whatever it was that was restraining me in angry confusion.

_**Stay out of this fight!**_For the first time, anger exploded through the voice, and my chest clenched in fear.

"But—" just as I began to protest, a sharp whistling sound reached my ears, and I looked up. Two of the guards to the White Hood's left crumpled to the ground. From where I was, I couldn't see why, or how.

The other guards immediately drew back in alarm, but not before another of them fell.

"What sorcery is this?" Vieri cried, sounding angry and afraid.

His question was answered by a deep, booming laugh, and a voice that didn't have a face, "Not sorcery, boy! Skill!"

Vieri searched around, wide eyed, "S-show yourself!"

From out of nowhere, a large man wearing high-boots and a light breastplate emerged, stepping out to the right of the White Hood and Federico, flanked by several others who were all wearing similar outfits.

"Mercenaries!" Vieri snarled, turning to what was left of his men. "What are you waiting for? Kill them! Kill them all!"

Just as he was saying this, the large man laughed again. "I don't think that's a very good idea, little Pazzi." As he spoke, he walked over, snatched the sword from Vieri's hands and snapped it in two over his knee. The fat man quivered in fear, and ran for his life, all the while screaming at the last of his men to kill us. The moment before he disappeared around the corner, Vieri turned his head to look at me. Straight at me. And then he was gone.

His men stood there for a moment, and then extremely reluctantly, they attacked. This fight was short, for as soon as two of the seven men we were fighting had fallen, the survivors dropped their weapons and ran for it.

I, meanwhile, was still stuck to the ground. I watched as the White Hood and the large man helped Federico to his feet. For a moment he wavered, looking as if he were going to fall. The White Hood held his hands toward his brother, ready to catch him. The moment passed, and Federico waved him away, saying something to him reassuringly. Of course, the first thing he did after that was turn around, search for a moment, and then limp quickly over to me.

"Are you alright, Marietta?" he asked, holding me by the upper arms and looking me up and down for injuries. I shrugged him off violently.

"Just… _peachy_," I grumbled, trying in vain to lift my feet off of the ground. Briefly, Federico glanced over my shoulder at his family, and then let out a huge sigh, filled with relief and weariness.

"Come," he said, offering me his arm. I ignored him, swearing underneath my breath.

You're a damn liar, I thought furiously, Let me go! Let me go or I swear I'll do something I might regret! Immediately, visions entered my mind of me taking my dagger and slicing my left hand clean off.

_You would never. _The stupid voice sounded so sure of itself.

Oh, yeah? Well before, you said that _nothing_ could control me! Well, what are you trying to do now?! I roared. The sheer magnitude of my anger frightened me; I could hear the blood flowing through my ears, could feel it pumping through my head. My hands shook, my fingers tightening painfully around the metal hilt of the knife. Every muscle I knew was clenched.

_You must not be harmed._

"_Let. Me. Go_." I hissed, fire in my eyes. And then I was free. The anger I had been feeling disappeared quickly as I gazed into Federico's confused eyes; embarrassment and _fear_ replaced it. I looked down briefly at my left hand. What the hell _is_ this thing? An awkward silence surrounded us as Federico continued to stare at me weirdly.

"… So that was scary, huh?" I finally offered with a small, nervous smile.

Federico's face darkened as the confusion vanished, "Yes, and I do not think that that was the last we will see of Vieri de Pazzi. But no matter…" He gently ran the back of his fingers down my cheek, the movement so swift I barely had time to register it before his hand dropped and his voice brightened considerably, "Come, I would like you to meet someone." He placed a hand on the small of my back and gestured widely toward the large man and his posse. I stared up at him for a moment in confusion, my heart beating erratically while I wondered if that had actually happened. He so obviously pretended not to notice.

I let out a small sigh and sheathed my dagger, shooting a quick glance over my shoulder at Claudia and the rest, who were still on their horses. They looked frazzled, but unharmed. Thank the White Hood for that.

The two groups strode toward each other, meeting half way. "Marietta, this is my uncle, Mario," he introduced. "Mario, this is Marietta Sanfilippo."

The large man grinned at me. "Hello," I said simply. My head tilted slightly to the side noting with interest that his left eyes was blind and that a large, jagged scar ran across that same side of his face. With an impressive moustache, long dark hair, and thick, bushy and stern eyebrows, he was clearly a man no to be messed with. "Ah! _Signorina _Marietta, I have heard much about you!" He bowed, taking my hand and planting a soft kiss on the back of it. His moustache felt weird on my skin. "You are all that Federico talks about when he visits, you know. He is always in _such_ a hurry to get back to Florence, and to _you_."

I blushed and glanced toward Federico to see him grinning proudly down at me. I looked away and Mario laughed at me, "Come, all of you."

He wrapped one huge arm around my shoulders and squeezed. I found myself squished into the sweaty, stinky armpit of the older man. "I have much to show you!" he cried happily, seemingly sincerely excited. He seemed like good man. I relaxed beneath him as I waddled awkwardly along, trying not to upset the severe chafing. I looked over my shoulder, trying not to trip over my own feet keeping up with Mario's huge strides and saw the White Hood lean over and murmur something to Federico.

Whatever he said, Federico mustn't have liked because his face darkened as they both looked up and stared straight at me. Was this about Vieri? I had a feeling it was. I also had a feeling that I was missing something hugely important here. There was a secret in this family. I turned my head. It was none of my business.

_Not yet._


	10. Chapter 9

This Monteriggioni place was… well, quite frankly, a dump. I smiled and '_ahh_'ed, though as Mario gave me a quick tour of the town. At some corners I couldn't hide my disgust at the smell and sight of the streets and houses, but I didn't comment.

Many of the buildings were falling apart and the windows and doors were boarded up. It was obvious that this town was poor but I could see some big potential. If a couple of people got together with some brooms, hammers and planks of wood they could fix this place right up. The townspeople were all walking along, most heading home for the night but others were clearly headed to the pub which was the liveliest thing in the whole town.

Mario led us up a massive staircase, made of smooth limestone or something of that colour and texture that was covered in black grime and mud. I took a half-interested glance at the round, fenced-off area on the first level. "What's that for?" I asked, looking up at Mario.

"It is the sparring area. My men practice there."

"With swords?"

"Among other things."

"What other things?" I looked at him with inquisitive eyes.

To my surprise and annoyance, Mario just laughed and shook his head. "Nothing that a woman such as yourself would be interested in," he smiled gently and continued walking. My face pulled into a disgusted and outraged sneer which I quickly pulled a mask of indifference in front of. I shook my head unhappily before waddling after him.

The manor which Mario and the Auditore's apparently owned wasn't as big as I had imagined. So, _okay_, it was like, a hundred times bigger than my house and Leo's, sure, but it turned out that Mario actually owned this whole town - you'd expect him to have a huge castle on a hill with a moat filled with crocodiles; at least, _I_ did.

The main hall was wide, open and empty but for a large staircase leading to the upper levels and an incredibly beautiful and detailed chandelier. It would have been breath-taking if not for the cob-webs and dirt and dust coating every inch of visible surface. Not to mention the musty smell. "_Casa, dolce casa," _Mario smiled, gesturing to the place widely with his arms. Whilst I just stood, looking around with a without even bothering to wonder what he just said, the Auditore's – obviously having lived their entire lives surrounded by fake smiles and over-the-top-politeness – all smiled at him and nodded, with the exception of their mother. She had her head down and was holding her hands in front of her, her thin knuckles white.

"None of you have been here since you were tiny!" Mario boomed, his huge voice echoing loudly around the high-roofed room. "So, what do you think?"

"It is most impressive, Uncle," Federico's strained voice said pleasantly.

Mario looked at us – we, pathetic a group all dirty, sore and exhausted, and, on the White Hood's part; bloody – and smiled sympathetically. "You must be exhausted; come, I will show you to your accommodations."

By 'you' he meant 'you girls'. To the men he said; "Wait in the study, will you?"

I rolled my eyes at the sexist attitude this guy was emitting, but followed him anyway. Truthfully, I didn't think that I would make it up those stairs. He showed Claudia to her room first, and she disappeared with a polite, _"Buona notte". _The kid and his mum were shown to another room and she pulled the same act as Claudia, but the kid surprised me; he flung his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach. After the initial shock, I hugged him back tightly, squeezing my eyes closed as I did. We said like that for a long moment before I kissed him gently on the top of his long, dark hair and whispered, "_Buona notte_, kiddo."

He whispered, "Goodnight, Marietta," and we parted.

My room was the very last one on the right, just before a massive window that looked out across the town.

Mario swung the door open for me and stepped to the side, gesturing for me to go in. It was decorated in very earthy colours; different shades of dark green and brown. Against the wall to the left was a large four-poster bed with a high pale coloured wooden head board and around the room there were several very uncomfortable looking couches and chairs. They reminded me of my grandma's old chairs that she had inherited from her mum – the one's that always smelled like old people where they sat in the corner of the lounge, untouched. The only person who ever liked those chairs was the old cat. I felt a pang of longing as I stood there, gazing sadly at them. I heard Mario Auditore bid me goodnight before softly closing the door.

I sighed, making sure all of the curtains were shut before I painfully stripped out of my clothes and pulled on Leo's huge shirt I had worn every night since I got here. I had no problem going to bed dirty and sweaty. I threw my clothes into a pile on the chair next to the bed and sat down on it, my spread slightly apart so that my thighs were not in the least in danger of touching. I lifted up the shirt to inspect the rash and cringed.

I'd do anything for some body butter right now. Or aloe vera. Or anything. I sighed, looking around the room.

And then I heard the voices. Frowning, I stood up and looked around – the sounds seemed to be coming from the far corner of the room, beyond the bed. I walked over and ran my eyes across the wall. There was a small section right in the corner next to a torch that was a slightly lighter shade of muddy brown than the rest of the wall. I leant over and ran my fingertips lightly across it, excitement thrumming through me. Could this seriously be a secret passage?

I glanced around, "I wonder how it o—" There was a sharp pain in my left hand and I heard a dull, soft thunking noise and suddenly that lighter part of the wall was swinging outward toward me, revealing a dark, rectangular, wooden tunnel about half my height but twice my width. "pens…" I finished in a whisper as I bent down. The voices were louder now and as I bent down and began slowly crawling along, the sounds turned to words.

"… and then Marietta, Ezio, Pettrucio and I managed to stumble to _La Rosa Colta_ where Paola's girls nursed me back to health. Once I was able to walk we snuck out of Firenze and headed straight here," I heard Federico's voice.

"So Marietta Sanfilippo saved your lives?" came Mario's stunned, deep exclamation.

"Unbelievable, isn't it?" Ah, there was Ezio.

I crawled a bit further, barely breathing. At the end of the tunnel there was this small grating no bigger than my hand. I squinted through it. I was looking out over what must've been the study. Mario was standing behind a desk, both hands on the dark wood, shaking his head. Federico was sitting on a seat in front of it and Ezio was leaning over against the window sill, his arms crossed over his chest and his hood hiding his eyes.

I pulled away from the grating and sat down, getting comfortable as I prepared to eavesdrop on their entire conversation. It was actually quite boring for a long while. Mario and Federico went over the story a couple more times, sometimes cursing loudly at a man named, Uberto Alberti. One thing I did find out was that Ezio had killed him, publicly. He was a murderer, then. A real, live murderer.

I remembered that night I had had the dream about my dad and had woken up and seen the White Hood standing on the roof of the building across the street, covered in blood. That was the man, Alberti's blood. I shivered, sickened.

"Do you mean to say Giovanni never told him?"

"Told me what?" I heard Ezio's voice snap. I perked up, leaning toward the grate. Shit, what had I missed?

I heard Federico sigh wearily. Bullshit with the women in bed before 7 o'clock thing! That boy needed to rest for a week. "Father wanted to wait until he was older. He didn't believe that he was ready."

"What are you both talking about? What did Father not tell me?"

There was silence. I wasn't breathing.

"You said you found documents in the secret room in your father's study. Did you take them from Alberti when he died?"

There was a heavy, aggravated sigh, "_Si_. Here." I heard an hard thud and then the soft tapping of boots leaving the room. I jumped when the door slammed.

"You have to tell him." Federico said.

"He's _your_ brother."

"He's _your_ nephew."

They grumbled lowly to each other for a while longer about things I didn't understand. I knew that there was a secret here. I knew that Ezio wanted to know what it was just as much as I did. There was the sound of a chair scraping back and a soft groan as Federico stood. "We'll tell him tomorrow, Uncle. Together. I'm going to go bid Marietta goodnight and then head to bed myself. It has been a long day and my leg is sore."

My eyes widened at this and I pulled myself out of my quite comfortable position, turning around in the small space and crawling as quickly and quietly as I could back toward my room.

The passage was about thirty centimetres from the ground and my clumsy ass succeeded in tumbling out of it as my hand fell through the air, forgetting, and expecting to hit even ground. I landed with a thud in a heap on the hard wood and lay there for a moment in shock, groaning softly as a dull pain reverberated through my shoulder and hip. Then I clambered to my wobbly feet, hissing as my thighs brushed together and turned to the secret door, swinging it closed as gently as I could. It fell into place with a satisfying, whooshing thud.

I let out a relieved breath before moving around the room and blowing out all of the candles, leaving the one near the door for last. There was a soft knock on the door and I looked down at myself in my big shirt that just brushed my knees and hung in a low v revealing just the top of my breasts. I pulled the neckline closed, brushed my fingers quickly though my hair and hoped that I didn't look too breathless or guilty.

I flung the door open; the movement pulling the shirt up to my thigh and re-opening the neckline; revealing my collar bone and part of my shoulder. I quickly moved my arms to hug myself as Federico's gentle smiling face fell into a look of shock and awe as his eyes travelled over my body.

I felt so damn uncomfortable as he stood there staring. "Federico?" My voice was harsh and filled with warning. His brown eyes shot up to mine and I saw that there was a very seductive twinkle in them.

"I just wanted to say goodnight, Marietta." I stayed silent for a moment as his eyes strayed back downward, and a frown formed on his face, "Whose shirt is—"

I interrupted him quickly, reaching out and taking the door in my hand while my face flushed red, "Well, yes, goodnight!" I cried quickly before closing the door in his frowning face. I leaned my back against it, and listened as he let out a long breath and then hobbled away. I sighed in relief. Well that was awkward. Note to self: tomorrow, go to a shop and buy pyjamas.

I blew out the last candle and walked over to the bed, plopping down on top of the covers. The mattress was soft, filled with what must have been thousands and thousands of feathers, a welcome change from the straw at Leo's. I sunk into it as I slid my body beneath the silky smooth covers, sighing sadly at the thought of my friend. The coolness of the material worked wonders on my throbbing hot rash. I stared up at the dark roof and decided to finally realise the fact that Florence was no crazy town, and Leo and Federico and Ezio were no crazy people. This was all very real. I was in the Fifteenth Century, in Italy. I supposed that meant that I was speaking Italian. How was it then that some snippets of conversation weren't translated then? How did that work? I found myself extremely calm as I thought of all of this. I went over everything I had eaten, everywhere I had gone and everything and everyone I had seen. No wonder it was all so surreal. I was actually, truly in the past. In Italy in the past. I wondered how many people could say that. I wondered briefly of my family, whether or not they knew I was gone. I hoped they didn't worry too much. My mind then flicked over to Leo. My dear, sweet Leo. Leonardo Da Vinci. The one and only. I couldn't believe it but it made so much sense; the mirror writing, the sculptures, the paintings, the inventions… I had always imagined Da Vinci as an old man with a very long beard, not a young, incredibly energetic fresh-faced and innocent boy. I laughed out loud, my heart bursting with wonder and pride. My Leo was going to be one of the most intelligent, loved and well known men of all time.

How could this have happened? How could it be that I had actually met and lived and been cared for by the actual Leonardo Da Vinci? I raised my left hand and saw the circle glowing faintly in the darkness. Everything that had happened had been because of this. I could hear the voice because of this. At the gallows, I had been able to easily cut through thick rope with my small dagger because the metal had shone with the same light that this emitted from time to time. I supposed I was talking in Italian because of this. I had a pretty good guess that whatever this was, and whoever it was that was talking to me in my head, were the reason I was here in the first place. Now I only had to figure out why. As well as who the hell Marietta Sanfilippo was.

I spent a while longer going over and over my thoughts, before I finally buried my face in my own soft hair and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of old cats napping upon old chairs in the warmth of the summer sun.


	11. Chapter 10

_Jessica. Wake up. Jessica. Wake up. Jessica…_

My weary eyes opened slowly to stare at an unfamiliar roof. My left palm throbbed dully where it rested on my stomach. I let in a deep, slow breath, closed my eyes and held it for a moment, and then released it.

_Jessica. There is something you must see. Get up._

I felt a cool wave of energy flow over and through me, and in a moment, my fatigue vanished and I felt ready and willing to sprint and run and prance and play. The energy had originated from the circle, I noticed, and was not, could not be natural. I sat up, glanced at my sweat soaked, dirty, disgusting clothes on the chair and slid off of the bed, walking over to the dresser on the far wall. There had to be something in there for me. I grabbed the first dress I saw that I supposed would be big enough for me, threw on a thin, white chemise and a simple green dress over the top, lacing it up at the front. I inspected myself briefly, brushing away much of the dust which had gathered on the green velvet over however long it had sat in that drawer.

_Jessica._

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I had to get dressed. I'm not running about in nothing but a shirt." I dug through the drawer and found a pair of long, thin socks which reached my lower thighs and pulled them on beneath my stinking, dirty boots. I had one boot pulled on halfway when I realised that the only thing wrong with me at that moment was I just a tad bit hungry. I wasn't feeling sick, I wasn't feeling hot, I wasn't feeling sore and after a quick check, I noticed that the chafing on my thighs was completely gone.

"That… is weird." I frowned to myself warily, glancing at the circle on my left palm and recalling the cool wave of energy which had rejuvenated me when I awoke. Had it healed me also? Surely not. But then again, I was in the Fifteenth Century so it wasn't like it was the strangest thing that had happened to me. 

I tied back my hair with the same purple ribbon Leo had given me and forced myself to ignore the fact that deodorant had not yet been invented and I stank of horse and sweat. Hygiene in this century was a concern. Leo had sat for quite some time having to explain and demonstrate how to clean your teeth without a toothbrush. It was a goddamn pain having to swish vinegar and wine around in my mouth before rubbing each tooth with a cloth and then with some extra herbs, which would always take me a ridiculous amount of time as I was incredibly paranoid about getting a cavity, which in this era, would not turn out well for me. In order to acquire nice smelling breath, I would then have to rub some mint around my mouth which doesn't exactly taste as good as it smelled. In the end I was content with the job it did and only occasionally would I feel the need to fashion myself a toothpick and pick out bits of food and meat. As I travelled through the city and met people, I realised that most of them did not take as much care as I did. Not even Leo, but that had been adjusted quickly after I had arrived.

Another thing which bugged me was the issue of hair, on my head and otherwise. Women obviously went all natural in this era so it was the end of smooth legs and armpits for me, which took a while to get used to. Realising that every other woman in the city was just as hairy as I helped greatly and after a few days I had come to accept it, embrace it even. Curse the idea that women should shave and men shouldn't. What bullshit. Washing the hair on my head on the other hand was not as easy to get used to. Leo bought me a strange powder which I would have to comb through my hair which would absorb all the grease and dirt. Then, once my hair was dry, I would comb another powder which smelled of rose, clove, nutmeg and watercress through it to make it smell lovely. I was used to my showers and washing my hair every night, so having Leo inform me that this was far from common place was like a kick in the head. Even the upper classes didn't bathe that regularly, instead they soaked themselves in perfume in order to keep themselves from stinking. I couldn't comprehend it. I still haven't wrapped my head around the idea, in fact.

One thing I wasn't looking forward to was my menstruation next month. I had no idea how women in this time handled it and I couldn't very well ask Leo. I supposed I would just have to use some sort of cloth…

_Jessica._ I realised I had become very distracted and so I adjusted my boots and dress to make sure everything sat comfortably and I tiptoed out of my bedroom door, down the hall and to the top of the stairs.

My boots tapped softly against the stone floor as I glided down the stairs, pausing on the bottom stair, one hand resting lightly on the banister to look around.

The house was completely silent, the air was empty of any real feeling you'd expect. It didn't even feel like a hotel. It just felt as if it had been abandoned long ago and was merely a shell of what it once was. The main hall was very empty; the walls were bare and everything was old and dusty. I sighed. I missed Leo's home with its mess and chaos and disorder; where the smell of ink, paint and old books assaulted your nostrils and where the outside world seemed a million miles away. Where the tight spaces trapped the warmth of both the fire and Leonardo's love and care, and wherever you stood you felt as if someone were there with you, watching over you. In this house with the high roof, the bare walls, and the empty floor… it just made me feel small and alone. Mario must have been very lonely living in this big house, I thought.

_Go to the study on the left._

I hesitantly poked my head into the room, gazing into the darkness to find it empty of life. I tiptoed in, taking into the large bookshelves on the back wall, the beautiful mahogany desk and an impressive scale model of the entire town of Monty on a table in the middle of the room.

_Find the open window. Go through it. _I found the window and peered out into the night. I hitched a foot up and began to pull myself through, "Why can't I just go out the front door?" I whispered.

_Silence. Do as I say._

Who does she think she is? I thought as I fell off of the window sill and landed on my butt on the hard ground with a grunt. I stood up, brushing myself off. The town was dark but for the couple of lanterns and torches lit around the streets. Now especially with no one walking about, the place look abandoned. And quite creepy. I shivered in the night air. An old, sickly looking tree was silhouetted by the bright moon a couple of metres from where I stood. Its branches swayed menacingly with the gentle breeze. Somewhere in the distance a bird let out a loud, haunting cry. I gulped.

"So do you have a name? I don't want to keep having to call you 'the voice'," I whispered in the night.

_You have no need for a name. Go to the right of the house. _

I moved slowly around the side of the house, "I want a name."

_You humans desire many things you cannot have._

"What do you mean 'humans'? What are you, then? An alien?"

_Not quite. _

I froze as I heard the low, deep hum of male voices nearby. I bent into a half-crouch and became very serious as I slowly and silently snuck further along the wall toward the back of the house. I stopped at the corner and slowly looked around it, taking care to not poke it out too far. I am so ninja, I thought, feeling awesome.

_Focus._

Sorry.

"You say our father was more than just a banker?" I heard the White Hood saying, my eyes zoned in on where the sound came from and I saw Mario and the White hood standing in front of a seated Federico, both with their arms crossed. Mario had his back to me.

The White Hood's wasn't wearing his usual dramatic cape and fancy white clothes, but just a loose linen shirt that was pulled in at the wrists and had a plunging neckline and a pair of dark pants.

Federico had his injured leg stretched out in front of him and his other bent with his arm resting on the knee. He was sitting on the raised rim of some sort of circular structure. A pond of some sort, I supposed. I was proud of myself from picking all of this out from nearly fifteen metres away and through three tall trees with nothing but the moon to help light the place up at what must have been four or five o'clock in the morning.

I breathed in and out quietly through my mouth as I eavesdropped –again—on their conversation.

"Ezio, I know this will be hard for you to hear. It was for me also, but Father was much, much more than just a banker," Federico paused, seemingly readying himself. "Our father was a senior member of the Order of Assassins."

I blinked. Then I blinked again. Once more.

I swore out loud before I could stop myself, stepping back from the corner of the house and leaning my back against it, my eyes wide in excitement. I let out a breath before sticking my head back out to listen to the rest of their conversation. _This _is why people eavesdrop; to find out far-out, crazy, exciting secrets like this.

"I don't believe you," was the White Hood's response. His tone of voice revealed that he wasn't quite sure of his own words.

I heard a loud sigh from Mario and saw him slowly pacing with his hands on his hips and his head down as he shook it. "Of course you don't," he grumbled.

"Ezio, like it or not, it is the truth. Father was an assassin." Federico told him firmly.

"This is unreal! Inconceivable! The medicine must have gone to your head!" The White Hood waved his hand as he turned and too, paced back and forth, his movements much more aggressive than his uncle's.

"Ezio…" Federico sighed.

"Even if it is true, why would he have hidden it from me? …Why did _you?" _

There was a loud sigh. "Ezio there are many secrets in our family, and they are kept for good reason. Mostly, for our family's protection."

"Protection from what?" The White Hood demanded.

"The Order of the Knights Templar." Federico declared, "They are an order that was founded many centuries ago, just after the First Crusade. They started out as just a group of battle-trained monks with armour, but they soon became much more. Two hundred years ago, King Philip of France moved against them, for fear of their ever-rising power. The Templars were purged; arrested, driven away, massacred and excommunicated by the Pope. At last, the Templars seemed to disappear, their power apparently broken. But there were many of them all throughout Europe. They hid underground, hoarding the riches they had salvaged, maintaining their organisation, and bent more than ever now on their true goal." Federico finished, his deep voice severe.

I had heard of the Templar Knights in History at school, but I hadn't really paid all that much attention. I never did. I shook my head, disappointed with myself. This is why you pay attention in the classroom, boys and girls; so that if you suddenly find yourself in the 15th Century, you'll know what everyone is going on about.

"And what was their true goal?"

"What _is_ their true goal, you mean!" Mario corrected in his loud voice. "Their goal is nothing less than world domination. And only one organisation is devoted to thwarting them—the Order of the Assassins, to which your father, your brother and I have the honour to belong."

I chuckled and shook my head at that. Oh, how original. The bad guys' aim is world domination. Where have I heard that before?

"Uberto Alberti was a Templar, Ezio. We had no idea until he betrayed us." Federico said quietly.

"Indeed. As are all the other's on your father's list." Mario added solemnly.

"And… Vieri?"

"He is one as well, and his father Francesco and all the Pazzi clan."

Their conversation fell from my interest as they began to discuss men whom I didn't know and places I had never heard of. My gaze travelled over the backyard of the house, which wasn't really much to boast about, across the stone fence and up to the sky full of unfamiliar stars. I stared for several long minutes, relaxing to the sight and the soothing, deep sound of men's voices. Assassins, I thought in wonder. Real, live assassins. In an order. Fighting against evil. You couldn't make something like that up.

_You do need to move away from the house, _the voice startled me as it reappeared, sounding strangely strained.

What? Why? I began to perk up, my mind returning from the stars.

_You have been spotted._

What? I looked wide-eyed to the men who had gone silent and saw that all three of their heads were turned in my direction; their eyes squinting as they peered into the shadows.

"Who's there?!" The White Hood called, sounding incredibly dangerous.

Panic and fear struck my heart and immediately adrenaline filled my veins. "Oh shit!" I said under my breath as I turned and started sprinting back the way I came, whilst trying to be as quiet as possible. Which wasn't working so well.

I flew down the first flight of stairs and turned left. From there I just kept running, trying to stay under cover as much as I could. From not too far off behind me I could hear the sound of roof tiles clacking together. I prayed that my ears were playing tricks on me and the sounds weren't really getting closer.

And this is the reason why people _don't _eavesdrop; because there's always the risk that instead of finding out far-out, crazy, exciting secrets, they find themselves with a knife in their back.

_Go to the stables. Hide with your horse. _

Yeah, that's a great idea. Sebastian the horse will save me from the murderous, blood-thirsty, weapon-wielding, bona fide assassin, the White Hood, Ezio Auditore, I thought sarcastically.

I sprinted for my life out of the gates of Monty and straight into the stables. There, I spent several short, panicked moments trying to find the stupid brown horse that somehow had developed the ability to blend in with the shadows. I passed Sebby about several times before he walked up behind me, shoved his face into my hair and let out a loud, seemingly amused snort, scaring the shit out of me.

I heard the sound of boots pounding hard on the dirt ground and quickly dived into Sebby's space in the stable, which wasn't very big, mind you. And then he decided to join me, completely oblivious to the fact that I was about to _die_. I stayed as quiet as I could, crouched in the back corner of the stable, my boots covered in horse manure and my lungs fighting to take in something that wasn't Sebby's horse-breath. His warm breath fanned across my face and through my hair and I had to keep pushing his face away as he nudged me with his nose and tried to lick and sniff at whatever part of my body he could.

"Christ, forget big scary horse. You're nothing but an over-sized puppy!" I breathed affectionately, holding my breath as I caught a glimpse of my pursuers through the gap between his long legs. The White Hood and Mario stopped right in front of Sebby's stall. Of course. They grumbled to each other, paced around a bit, and then at last headed back into Monty. But not before I heard Mario yelling something about the White Hood being a fool, that Federico has a straighter mind than his even with his injury… and then something about Spain. I don't know. I was distracted by Sebby's nose being shoved into my face.

I waited a good five minutes after they left before I left the stall, having to make Sebby walk his fat arse out as well so that I'd actually have enough room to leave. I looked around warily for any sign that the White Hood and his uncle were messing with me and were actually lying in wait for me to reveal myself before flying out of the shadows and chopping me to bits. But alas, it seemed I was safe. Until they got back to the house and saw that I wasn't in my bed and my boots were missing and I showed up a bit later covered in sweat and muck and smelling of horses. Well, more so than before. Yeah, that'd be _such_ a coincidence.

I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily. "This never would've happened if I had just stayed in bed," I grumbled, scraping my boots on a rock, trying to get some of the manure and straw off of them.

_If you had stayed in bed you would not have found out what you did._

"Okay, so they're assassins. They're in a centuries old war with the Templars. What's this got to do with me?" I rubbed at my eyes.

_Everything._

"Helpful." I sighed heavily. "Alright then, mysterious voice in my head, what do I do now?"

And… there was silence.

Great.

My gaze landed on a trough of slightly dirty water, probably for the horses to drink. I walked over to it, a plan slowly growing in my head. I grabbed an old rag that was just hanging on a crooked nail in the side of the stable and balanced myself on one foot beside the trough as I began cleaning the crap from my boots while I thought. I heard a sudden, familiar clucking and I lifted my head to see a lone chicken stop, look at me for a second and then continue on its way, pecking continuously at the ground as it went. Light bulb!

I waited in the stables with Sebby until just after the sun had peeked across the horizon, and then I moved. It turns out the rest of Monty decided to come out of their houses at the exact same time. Perfect. As I melded into the crowd I noticed that more than half of the townspeople were headed to the pub, or tavern I supposed it was called here. "Drinking in the morning, drinking at night. What do they do in between?" I mumbled to myself, shaking my head in wonder. The rest were knocking on doors and opening their shops and calling to each other over and over again; _Buon giorno! Buon giorno!_

It was much different to the mornings in Florence, mostly I think because there were no guards walking around, causing awkward and tense silences as they passed down the street. It was much more relaxed here; there were many people smiling and shouting. And drinking, of course.

It took a bit of searching but I finally found what I was looking for; the chicken pen. I slipped from the crowd and walked hesitantly over to join the small group of older women gathering there, all holding small, round, woven baskets, no doubt ready to collect some eggs from the not so friendly looking chickens. The women, I thought as I watched them standing in their group chattering loudly to one another, reminded me of chickens themselves. I hesitated for a moment before taking in a deep breath, throwing back my shoulders and stepping forward. "Excuse me?" I boldly tapped a large lady wearing a long dress and a head scarf on the shoulder. She turned around to face me, and the others did the same. My resolve faltered slightly as they looked me up and down.

I put a pleasant smile on my face as I met her eyes, which were a good ten centimetres below mine. "_Buon giorno_, young _ragazza_. What can I do for you?" The lady smiled up at me with dark brown eyes, rimmed with crow feet and wrinkles but shining with life.

"I was wondering if I could help collect some eggs. I've seen it done, but I would like try for myself. If that's alright," I added on the end.

What a load of bulldust. I'd been around chicken pens since before I could walk. My nanna had her own little farm going on in her massive back yard; chickens, goats, sheep, rabbits, turkeys, whatever she could get.

But just because I'd been around them all my life, it didn't mean I particularly _liked_ them. And so occurred today's second disaster. The women had looked at me oddly for a moment, before shrugging and handing me a basket and putting me to work.

The first part was easy. I moved to the various empty nests and picked up the eggs and placed them carefully into my basket, making sure not to break any. But then we came to a point where there were no more eggs in the empty nests. I looked to the lady next to me as to what to do next. She just smiled encouragingly and said, "Watch."

I watched the ladies as they slid their hands beneath the roosting chickens, felt around a bit and then magically brought out a couple of eggs before plopping them into their baskets. They made it look so damn easy. But of course, it wasn't. I moved to a chicken who was sitting there sleeping calmly. I gingerly slid my hand beneath it, moved my hand around a bit and then I must've touched something that it didn't like me touching because the damn thing's eyes flew wide open and it totally flipped out. It started screeching and beating its wings and all of the sudden I was under attack.

I dropped my basket full of eggs and let out a short shriek of shock, bringing my arms up instinctively to shield my face as this chicken went bat shit crazy on me. Its claws scratched at my clothed arms, and dug through my hair, scratching my scalp. All I could see through the gap between my arms was a flurry of feathers and all I could hear was the beating of its wings and its loud, angry squawking. I stumbled backward into one of the ladies and was surprised when she took me into a protective embrace and began shooing angrily at the angry bird. Almost immediately, the chicken stopped with its squawking and I heard it run off, clucking angrily.

I lifted my head warily to the sounds of loud laughter. I pulled away from the lady who was still embracing me to look around at the crowd of townspeople who had gathered to watch the new girl get attacked by a crazed chicken. They, along with the women I was supposed to be helping, were all laughing uproariously at me. And once the terror and fear of being killed by a chicken began to fade away, I pissed myself laughing too.

I apologised about a thousand times for the broken eggs I had dropped but the ladies all waved it off with a friendly smile and fond sparkles in their eyes. They laughed and told me, basically, that I sucked royally at egg collecting. As if I didn't already know. I thanked them and apologised again before bidding them a farewell and making my way through the town. They all waved and called happy and thoroughly amused goodbyes.

I walked up the massive stairs to Mario's place, laughing to myself and shaking my head. I grinned happily. I now had my excuse for why I was out, and witnesses to state they saw me. Gods, the whole town had seen me. I chuckled as I walked up to the front door, slowly down slightly and looking down as I scraped chicken crap and hay from the bottom of my boots before I stepped inside, thinking that maybe all of this wouldn't be so bad after all. As long as I didn't get murdered by any assassins, that is.


	12. Chapter 11

Claudia met me at the top of the stairs and we smiled at one another. I noticed the bags beneath her eyes and wondered how she was holding up. She looked me over and before she could voice the question I could see burning in her eyes, I told her, "I woke up early this morning and had a little walk around town. I saw some women collecting eggs and I thought I should help them out."

Her eyebrows rose and she laughed, "Well, that explains the feathers." I grinned sheepishly and reached up to pluck out a feather from my messy hair. Claudia shook her head at me, giggling softly. She took my hand leading me up the stairs toward the bathroom, which was significantly more extravagant than Leo's.

"I had it filled for you, ready for when you woke up," she told me as she opened the door and stepped back.

I blinked and then smiled at her, "That was very thoughtful of you. Thanks, Claudia."

She gave me a small smile in return and nodded, leaving me to relax in the silky and perfumed waters. Once it had cooled, I emerged and slipped into a white chemise, a beautiful close-fitting scarlet underdress and a looser, flowing black overdress over it. The sleeves of the underdress tied in at my forearm and left a wide, unusual opening at my elbow, revealing the white of the chemise underneath. The overdress was open at the front, held together at the waist by a red ribbon-like belt and then flowed down in two parts to reveal the striking red beneath. I fingered the golden trim and adjusted the strange diamond holes in the overdress cut for my arms. It was heavy and I was in no way used to the feel of any of the articles of clothing upon my person but I supposed I didn't look too bad in it. I slipped on a pair of light, black slippers and left the room.

I wandered for a while, taking in the empty walls, the cobwebs and spiders and dust and dark, eerie corners. The spacious main hall served as the entrance, and lead to the other rooms of the ground floor including a large armoury, a study which I supposed doubled as a workshop, where I had snuck out earlier this morning. The large marble staircase in the centre of the hall lead to the second floor, and a giant, dusty, broken chandelier hung above it. There were several doors on the second floor, leading to the rooms Claudia, Federico, Petruccio and Maria inhabited, though I supposed that Petruccio was sharing with his mother. Then there was the bathroom, a mostly empty painting gallery and my own room. Through a door beside the stairs on the lower level, I recognised the door to Mario's study, where I supposed there lead another door to his own bedroom. I also discovered a small hallway which lead out to the decrepit backyard, and then most welcomely, I came across a large, dusty kitchen littered with dirty and broken plates and bowls and cups. A grit-covered window let in yellowed streams of light and reflected upon the heavy layer of dust in the air.

"Busy exploring, are you?"

I smiled widely at Claudia and Petruccio who sat at a long table for at least twelve people, made of a rich, dark wood. They had cleaned a section of the table, and laid out three plates filled with several different fruits. "This house is beautiful." I commented as I took an offered seat.

Petruccio scrunched up his nose and coughed, "It's all dirty."

Claudia smiled sympathetically at her little brother, "Petruccio has a condition," she told me, "He has occasional bouts of weakness and severe coughing fits. He has spent most of his life ill in bed. He has seemed better lately but we must watch him well. All this dirt and dust isn't good for him."

I frowned in concern, "It's not good for anyone. How could Mario let it get this bad?"

Claudia rolled her eyes, "What else? He is a man."

I chuckled at that, reached over to rub Petruccio's shoulder sympathetically and then started to eat.

"I was woken this morning by Ezio and Federico arguing," Claudia spoke sometime later as she played with her fruit. Petruccio and I looked to her, interrupted in our battle to steal each other's food, "Ezio wants us all to go on to Spain, but Federico insists we stay." Petruccio glanced at me worriedly as Claudia sighed heavily, putting down her fork, "I don't want to leave _Italia. _This is our home. We cannot just run away."

I frowned, "Federico is the eldest. Doesn't Ezio have to listen to him now?"

"Yes, but…" she let out a loud breath and shook her head. "I just don't know."

"It will be alright, Claudia." Petruccio smiled at her. I smiled in agreement, nodding.

"Do you think?" She looked to me worriedly while she reached out and squeezed her youngest brother's hand.

I shot her an assuring grin, "I really do."

After a moment, her stiff shoulders relaxed and she smiled at us both. We washed and dried our plates and placed them back on the table, which proved to be the only remotely clean spot in the entire room. Claudia and I considered beginning to clean it, but in the end I convinced her we deserved a day of relaxation. Soon after, I was forced to give in to her insistences that I allow her to properly put up my hair and she spent almost half an hour pulling my dark hair back into a strange almost bag of material which I learned was called a caul, and then curling the loose bangs around my face.

"I am afraid for us, Marietta," she said quietly as she worked, her slender fingers gliding skilfully through my freshly washed locks. "I am afraid for Federico and for Petruccio. I am afraid for my mother. I am afraid for Ezio. I am afraid that I will never see our home or my friends again. I am just so afraid."

"You have every right to be," I murmured. "What has happened to this family is something that you may never return from. Things will probably never be the same as they were. All you can do is try to accept it and keep moving forward."

She was quiet for a moment, "You know, I do not think you are Marietta. It is impossible that you are. Yet it is impossible for you to be anyone else."

I made a sound of amusement, "Would it be weird if I said I have been thinking the exact same thing?"

As neither of us had an answer to this and we didn't dare question it further for fear that we proved ourselves mad, we fell into silence. I had never gotten around to asking Leo about Marietta Sanfilippo; who she was, why everyone thought I was she… and now I had missed that chance. I didn't know or trust Claudia enough to tell her everything I told Leo because I had no idea how she would react. So I kept my mouth shut and wondered silently what she was thinking.

We decided to spend the day exploring the town, which didn't end up taking very long as much of it consisted of either people's houses, or empty, boarded-up shops. We steered clear of the tavern. It seemed that this, as well as the vast farms and vineyards just outside the city walls, were the city's only sources of income. Growing quickly bored and sick of the intense stench from the poor city, we wandered beyond the walls, looking carefully around for any of the male Auditores who would surely not be happy to catch us doing so. However, Ezio, Federico and Mario seemed to have disappeared completely.

We spent several hours checking on our horses in the stables, and then wandering from farm to farm patting cows and baaing at the sheep. The wind blew gently on our skin, the sun shone brightly in the sky and everyone we met was happy to see us. I waved and smiled at several people who recognised me from the chicken incident and Claudia looked at me strangely. I told her and Petruccio the story and they burst out laughing while I pouted and showed them my battle scars. We returned to the house for lunch, and were surprised to find that there was still no one home. We returned to the kitchen and Claudia prepared a small meal for us while I began to clean out a few cupboards, filling an empty crate with broken things and making a pile of dirty things in the large, deep sink with a large, levered tap, to clean later. Petruccio disappeared into the backyard for several minutes before returning with a small vase filled with small blue flowers. He grinned hugely at me as he placed it carefully on the table.

After lunch, we moved into the workshop where Claudia and Petruccio played chess in front of the window which was wide open to let in the cool breeze which was needed as the afternoon sun heated the air. I spent a while watching them play, and then studying the scale model of Monty, and then browsing the books, which proved to be mostly economics, law and a lot of Latin.

_Go outside_, the voice startled me so badly that I dropped the book I was skimming through. I quickly picked it up and put it back, smiling apologetically at Claudia and the kid who went back to their game.

_Jessica, _the voice urged.

"I'm going, I'm going. Relax. Jeez." I rolled my eyes and moved to the front door. It opened the same moment I reached out to take the door handle and I had a moment of awkwardness as I stepped out of its way as someone pushed through. Dark brown, shaggy hair, broad shoulders, a high, white collar, red tunic… "Hello, Federico."

"Marietta, _buon pomeriggio_," Federico's eyes settled upon me and a wide, happy smile appeared on his tired face. "May I say, you look exceptionally beautiful today."

I blushed, "Thank you. How are you?" I asked glancing down at his leg.

His eyes sparkled at me. "Good, thank you. My leg is healing, albeit slowly. Were you heading outside?" He stepped to the side and gallantly offered an arm when I nodded. I took it and we walked over to the stone wall to lean against it. I looked out over the town, ignoring Federico's eyes on my face. We stood there beneath the warm afternoon sun in silence. My attention was suddenly drawn by the sound of metal on metal and I looked down to the left to see Ezio in nothing but a loose white shirt and tight dark pants facing against a man in leather armor within the sparring area. Mario was standing on the outside, his arms crossed over his protruding belly, watching.

I brushed passed Federico to stand on the opposite side of him and leaned on the wall to get a better look. "What's going on?" This must be what the voice wanted me to see.

"_Zio_ Mario and I have decided that my brother should learn to properly fight considering our current situation." He shifted his stance so that he was leaning toward me. I ignored this. I ran my eyes over Ezio's sweaty face and the large amount of bronze chest that I could see thanks to the low-cut of the white linen shirt he was wearing in appreciation. I counted myself lucky to be surrounded by not one, but two attractive people. Three, if I wanted to count Claudia whom I had caught myself staring at more than once in the shining sunlight today.

"Claudia told me that Ezio would like to move onto Spain soon. She said that you disagree," I distracted myself, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. Federico's eyes darkened slightly and became serious.

"_Si_. My brother has it in his mind that we need to flee. He is wrong. We are safe as long as we are here. There are many people who will help us." He smiled down at me, and raised a hand to my chin. His eyes softened. "Don't you worry about a thing, _mio caro. _I will not let any harm come to you," he murmured. I smiled at him and nodded, holding my breath as his hand left my chin. He took a deep breath then, "My uncle says that there is a convent nearby which is in much better shape than his castle. I agree that his home is not a place for women of any quality. Not with so many mercenaries about and no one to care for you. We will be away often and will not be around should you need us. I believe it would be best if you and Claudia took my mother and Petruccio there."

I turned fully around to stare at him in disbelief, knowing that if he had told this to Claudia, whose temper was remarkably short, he would most likely have had his head bitten off. "No," I said simply, resisting the strong urge to yell and swear and hit him. "We will be perfectly fine here, thank you very much."

"Marietta—"

"That's the end of it, Federico. I don't want to hear any more about it." I turned away sharply and stared violently into the distance, signaling that this conversation was over. Federico hesitated for a moment, and then surprised me with a chuckle. He moved and pecked me quickly on the cheek, "Alright, _tesora,_" he whispered and then wandered inside. I let out a huge, angry sigh and leaned heavily on the stone wall. I knew how women were thought of in the 15th Century, but I would not be putting up with any such nonsense, consequence be damned.

I wandered down the stairs to the practice ring and moved to stand near Mario, who was shouting at Ezio to concentrate and to stop being such a baby. Now closer, I could see the thick layer of sweat, dirt and blood on Ezio's body, and the angry bruises on his face, arms and chest. I frowned and clenched my jaw but understood. He was training. A bit of blood and a few bruises were a worthy price to pay if it meant learning how to stay alive against real enemies who were wholeheartedly trying to kill you. I was just glad I wasn't the one doing it. I didn't have much confidence that I wouldn't just collapse into a frightened ball and cry.

"_Buon giorno, Signorina. _I trust you are well?" Mario grinned down at me.

I smiled at him and nodded, "_Buon giorno, signore. _I am well, thank you."

He turned to watch Ezio, "That is good. I hear you went exploring earlier. How did you find this little town of mine?"

"It's…lovely," I frowned, "How did you know we went exploring?"

"My men told me, of course. You didn't think we would leave you alone without anyone to watch over you, did you?" he chuckled.

I raised an eyebrow, not sure how much I appreciated this, "You've got spies watching us?"

He smiled at me, "For your own protection. That is all."

I pursed my lips, unhappy, and jumped in surprise when Mario shouted loudly next to me, correcting Ezio once more. Mario turned back to me and laughed, "What can I help you with?"

I shrugged and watched Ezio miss the mercenary badly. "Nothing really. I just wanted to watch for a while."

"It's not much to watch," Mario grumbled, and then leaned in to whisper loudly with a sparkle in his good eye, "He is not very good."

"Hey!"

Mario and I laughed as Ezio turned angrily to face us, and was consequently knocked to the ground by the mercenary. He groaned as he slowly got back to his feet and returned his attention to the fight. Mario laughed. "Perhaps I can tell you a little about my castle," he offered, "if you would like to listen?"

I nodded, interested.

He smiled in approval and began, "It was originally built in the year 1290 but didn't come into the possession of our family until Domenico Auditore purchased it in 1321. He turned the villa into his home and had built in it many secret compartments and rooms," he told me with a secretive smile, "and deep beneath the ground, he constructed the great Auditore family crypt. Myself and my dear brother Giovanni, God rest his soul, were born here. Once our father died, Giovanni left to live in Florence and I became the sole ruler of Monteriggioni. I have lived here all of my life and I love it dearly, but as you see…" he gestured at the dull, grey and dirty castle before us, "I have little time or money to keep both my castle and my town well-kept. It is a dark, dirty and ancient place, but I believe that it may be returned to its former glory once more."

"I would very much like to see that," I smiled at him.

"As would I."

"Marietta," I turned to see Ezio walking over, sword drawn and arms and legs trembling slightly with fatigue and adrenaline, "Will you be coming with us to Spain, then?" he asked, leaning his sword against the wooden barrier and taking the bowl of water Mario offered him.

"Um…" I began awkwardly.

"Spain? Are you still talking of moving on to Spain?" Mario's voice boomed, sounding annoyed, "I thought your brother had brought you here to train."

Ezio frowned, wiping a large hand over his sweaty face, "No, Uncle. My intention is to take my family further still."

Mario frowned gravely, "But what about your father? His work as a you-know-what?"

"He—" Ezio stopped, glancing briefly to me in frustration, "What he was does not concern me. I only wish to keep my family safe."

"Doesn't concern you?!" Mario shouted suddenly in anger and then stopped himself. "Listen, Ezio, you were barely able to hold your own against Vieri. If I hadn't arrived when I did… Leave if you must but first learn the skills and knowledge you will need to defend yourself or you won't last a week on the road. If not for me, do it for the sake of your mother and sister and little Petruccio."

Ezio thought long and hard in silence, and then sighed, admitting his uncle made a good argument, "Alright. I'll stay."

Mario beamed and leaned over to clap him hard on the shoulder, "Good man! You'll live to thank me yet!"

Ezio shook his head at me with a small smile and I laughed shortly. Mario moved away to talk to his mercenary and I was left alone with the White Hood. I eyed his bruised chest and bloody knuckles. "You are going to be very sore tomorrow," I cringed sympathetically.

He winced, "I am sore now."

"I bet," I paused for a moment, "How are you, Ezio?"

"I am fine," he replied automatically. I said nothing, only waited for the few moments he stood silent and refused to meet my eyes. At last he sighed, "I… I am not fine. I am everything but fine. We have lost everything. My family is broken and confused. Federico's leg may never fully recover. My mother refuses to speak. And my father…" his voice, which had been steadily rising in volume cracked and fell to a strangled whisper, "My father…" He hung his head. The cool wind blew. I placed a comforting hand on his hot, sweaty shoulder. He reached up and covered it with his own, raising his head to look deeply and painfully into my eyes. There were so many questions, so much pain and doubt and rage. He removed my hand from his shoulder but held it tight in his own, staring emotionally down at me.

This was not a romantic moment. This was a moment between two human beings who understood each other's pain. Who had gone through the same horrific experiences and who were somehow still here. This was one of those moments that you couldn't possibly explain in words. In this moment, no words were needed. We simply understood one another, and in that instance, I created a bond with Ezio Auditore, the White Hood. This man who was not falling over backwards to try and prove that he cared for me and that he wanted to and could protect me as Federico had done, nor who knew more about me than literally anyone in this world and who accepted and believed in me as wholly and truthfully as Leonardo had done. Ezio was just another human being who could see himself in me just as I could see myself in him. This is what made this bond so uniquely special.

I cursed in that moment that I was masquerading as Marietta Sanfilippo, whose parents were most likely still alive somewhere. I couldn't sit down with this sad, broken and grieving man and explain to him how much I understood what he was going through. I couldn't explain to him that I knew how it felt and I knew how hard it would be and forever would be to think of your father as the man who_ should _be in your life, but who cruelly and unfairly was not. I could simply stand and hold his hand and hope that men in this age had enough common sense to talk to their family as they grieved, and not needlessly force everyone to go through this alone. I, myself, could not possibly imagine what I would have done if I didn't have my sister Jasmin and my mother there to support me after my dad died. When we cried, we cried together. When we were angry, we screamed at each other. Then at last, when we finally accepted it, we sat together and laughed as we remembered him.

"It will get easier," was all I could offer him.

"Ezio!" We were startled out of our trance at the sound of Mario's booming voice, "I need to talk to you once you are cleaned up. Find me in my study."

"Yes, Uncle." Ezio very slowly released my hand. I smiled at him in a friendly manner and walked back up the stairs to the castle.


	13. Chapter 12

Months passed slowly. Claudia, Petruccio and I spent weeks cleaning and repairing windows, dusting the drapes, airing out rugs and wiping down and dusting every surface and making a list of everything which needed specialist repairs or which needed to be replaced. We mopped the floors, polished the silverware, sorted and properly filed away loose pages, arranged the books and filled every empty vase with large bouquets of wildflowers. By the time we were well into summer, the interior of the house, aside from a few dents and ditches in the walls, was impeccable and we were quite proud of our accomplishments. The air was clean and fresh, and the rooms were filled with light and life. Claudia and I had become quite close during this time, and had shared many laughs and experiences together. I considered her a good friend and I believe she did also.

During this extended period of time, Federico discovered that although his leg had healed outwardly, it could never return to how it was before the injury. It pulled and ached and needed to be rested often. Mario offered to buy him a cane, but the proud Federico refused vehemently. I could see how it pained him to know that he could no longer run and jump and climb as his brother did. Instead, Federico began to focus on the training of his mind. He sat for hours in the workshop reading the books and pages there. Sometimes I would have him read to me, which he always did happily. He began to tutor his youngest brother, Petruccio, wanting to ensure he was as educated as himself and Ezio.

Ezio, meanwhile, had become increasingly skilled and strong as he trained under Mario's watchful eye. Beginning at dawn, Ezio would be in the practice area, sparring with a mercenary, or else jumping lithely from rooftop to rooftop, gaining his strength, balance and precision. Mario would have him run the road outside the great walls around the town for hours and hours and then kick and hit at a dummy filled with straw for hours more. He trained with short and long swords, daggers and halberds and throwing knives and then with no weapon at all. His training would end well after night had fallen and he would stumble upstairs to bathe off the blood and sweat of the day before shuffling up the stairs to his room he had made in attic, where he would find a large plate filled with his dinner and a jug of wine. I didn't know if he knew it was I who left it for him without fail every night, for he never mentioned it to anyone. I didn't need him to. I was just glad to do what little I could to help. Mario was really putting him through hell.

I, myself had grown soft around the edges during my time here. The food was healthier than anything I had eaten back home, but the sedentary lifestyle was working against me. I had very little to do during my days, aside from read and write and draw things in my journal which Claudia had supplied for me. Within it, I wrote my thoughts and feelings and kept note of everything which had happened. As a result of the depth and honesty I had poured out within its pages, I made sure to keep it close to my person at all times, lest someone discover it and start asking questions. Mario had allowed me to exchange letters with Leo every week, and though we had little to tell each other, the letters proved to be the highlight of my time there and I cherished every one.

I had not heard from the voice in my head for over two months now, however I did not feel free from it in the least. It was there. In the back of my mind. Watching and waiting. A foreign presence within my thoughts, aware of each and every happening both in my head and in the world around me. This presence didn't frighten me, however, and after some time it didn't even annoy me. I merely adapted to it. It became a norm and I began to forget what my mind felt like before it had settled there.

I spent many quiet hours grieving for my old life, for my friends and my family, and I wondered if they knew I had gone. I missed my mum's hugs and my sister's voice and my little brother, Tommy's excited, round face. God, I missed Tommy. I hoped they were all okay. I also spent quite a lot of time riding Sebastian, walking or working on the garden in the backyard with Claudia. It was a peaceful, quiet time and we remarked to each other that sometimes it felt as if nothing terrible had happened at all.

However, there were times, many times in fact, where hours of my day were spent comforting a grieving Petruccio or a furiously emotional Claudia. Many nights I would be awoken by the young boy with tears streaking down his face and his small frame shaking with sobs, climbing into my bed to hold me tight, have my arms wrapped around him and hide from the world within my embrace. I would follow the strangled screams and sound of violent destruction and find Claudia moving like a tornado upturning chairs and throwing books and sending weapon stands crashing to the ground. She would shout and scream at me for not saving her father, and then she would throw herself at Federico and hit him across the face for bringing this upon their family. Finally, she would fling herself into a corner, curl up and sob there and I would command Federico to go to her and comfort her. In the end, he would do so, and I would leave the siblings there to cry their grief together.

As the months passed, the three Auditore children slowly began to come to terms with their father's death, with the support of each other. I had strong concerns, however, for both their mother, Maria, whom I had literally not seen since the day we arrived and who, according to Claudia and Petruccio, barely ate or spoke a word, and also for Ezio. None of us had spoken to him so we had no idea how he was coping with everything. I asked Federico to talk to him, and he tried, but Ezio refused to talk about it. He had shut everyone out, just as his mother had. There was nothing any of us could do for him until he someday would decide to let us in.

I sat on a warm evening in the painting gallery upstairs, roughly sketching the images of various characters from television shows I sorely missed when I heard the sound of raised, angry, male voices echoing throughout the villa. I heard only the words 'Spain', 'disappointed' and 'idiot' before the conversation was cut short by a loud slamming of a heavy door. I emerged onto the second story landing, wide eyed and curious as I gazed around the main hall. I hurried over to a window which looked to the front of the house and saw Mario marching angrily down the stairs to the town, waving his hands and shaking his head. The echoing sound of a door latch opening reached my ears and I watched as Federico stormed out of the workshop, looking as aggravated as his uncle. I admired how little his leg hindered his movement, as painful as I knew it was. He disappeared in the direction of the kitchens at the moment Ezio proved the final one to emerge.

The youngest man looked more exhausted than angry, but his frustration showed in the set of his jaw and the rigidness of his shoulders. He shut the door carefully behind him and then wandered slowly out to stand in the centre of the main hall, putting his hands on his hips and sighing before raising his head to stare up at me.

I waved sheepishly and he returned it with a small, tired smile. "Hello, Marietta."

"Hey Ezio," I greeted, noting that this was the first time we had directly spoken in months, "Are you okay?"

He nodded, "I am… better, thank you." He let out a heavy breath, "Tell me, do you believe we should continue on to Spain, or stay and live here, as my brother and uncle wish?"

I leant my forearms against the railing and let out a breath as I thought, "Honestly?" He nodded. "I think we should stay here. Everyone is settled. Claudia and Petruccio are happy here. Federico seems to be as well. We've been here for months and no one has come to find us so I'm assuming we're pretty much safe. We've got food, water, beds and clothes. We've got things to keep us entertained and the people in town are good and kind. I don't really see any good reason to leave," I finished with a shrug.

He sighed in response and frowned at me as if I had said the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear. I smiled apologetically. His shoulders slumped forward, his head lowered and in that moment, he was, in my eyes, a young boy who had seen and heard and experienced far too much for his little heart to handle. He had isolated and alienated himself from his family and as a result had left himself small and vulnerable and alone. I held so much sympathy for him that I could not contain myself from hurrying across the landing and down the staircase.

Ezio turned to face me, his head still lowered. I wanted to know what he was feeling; I wanted him to be willing to tell me what he was feeling. Patience was key. I stood before him and placed a comforting hand on his firm, warm shoulder. "You want to go for a walk?"

He looked up at me from beneath his brow with sad amber eyes, "A walk?"

"Yeah. A nice, relaxing walk by the vineyards." I smiled. "No family. No yelling. Just a walk," I promised. To distract you. To make you forget all of this for just a moment. To make you happy, if only for a fleeting moment.

"Alright," he conceded, cracking a small but dashing smile which made me smile in return. I watched as he pushed away the sadness and apprehension and confusion and forced himself to relax, lowering his shoulders and taking a deep breath as he began to follow me.

I insisted on staying silent as we snuck into the kitchen and packed a small basket with bread, cheese, grapes and wine beneath a thin blanket. Bumping into the doorway, I giggled as we made our escape out the front door and to the path along the top of the wall. Ezio laughed at me and I hushed him wildly as we hunched over and ducked from cover to cover to the stone stairs which led down to an alley to the right of the main gates.

"Why are we sneaking?" Ezio's deep voice laughed behind my right shoulder as he followed close behind me, carrying the basket which I had filled with flowers to act as a disguise.

"Shh! Do you want everyone to know we're here?"

"Who is _everyone_?"

"Your family. If any one of them hears our plan, they're going to want to come along."

He chuckled as we reached the stairs and began to descend them. I noted the smooth edges, gouges and cracks in the stone with careful disdain. Monteriggioni really needed to be cleaned, repaired and given a thorough paint job. They could at least get rid of the rats, honestly. I held my breath as we hurried down the alley and I tried my best to ignore the small cat sized rodents which scattered riotously as we passed. I paused at the opening of the darkened alleyway and peeked around the corner.

"Want me all to yourself, do you?"

A tingle ran down my spine and throughout my core at the gravelly tone of his voice, low and sensual by my ear. I blushed but forced myself to shoot a cheeky grin over my shoulder, "You know it." I ran off chuckling and he hurried after me, laughing good-naturedly.

Escaping successfully through the gates, I gawked appreciatively at the rolling green hills and the endless blue sky of Italy. The warm wind ran its fingers through my dark hair and caressed the lines of my jaw and collarbone. Out in the sunlight, beyond the gates of his responsibility, seventeen year old Ezio Auditore's handsome, olive-toned face smoothed, his sharp, shining eyes lightened and his strong, sharply lined body relaxed as he became a young adult once more, and the ten year old boy stepped only into the background, forgotten only for the moment. I skipped along, breaking quickly from the path which circled the high walls of Monteriggioni and moving along the fence line separating public property from private.

We passed several small farmlands, pausing only several times to pat the head of a complacent cow, and then found ourselves in awe of a deep green vineyard which rose majestically from the dirt, its vines laden heavy with grapes ripe for harvest. We passed rows and rows and rows of grape vines as we began to discuss whether or not cows liked to drink wine and which, red or white, was their preference. After some time, I interrupted the conversation to point to a very appealing tree on top of a very attractive small hill upon which I immediately decided we were to have our picnic.

I hurried up it, trying unsuccessfully to mask my unfit panting from the much fitter Ezio, and then took the basket from his arm, carefully removed the flowers, spread the blanket upon the grass and sat down on it, placing the basket beside me. Ezio eased himself to the ground and sat in silence, staring thoughtfully across the vineyard to the farm and the dark green hills and forest beyond. I set up our small picnic, realising with only some frustration that we had forgotten to bring cups for the wine. Silently hoping I didn't get AIDS or something equally as horrific, I moved the now empty basket out of the way, tore off a small chunk of cheese and nibbled at it delicately as I played with one of the wildflowers I had used to disguise the basket. I watched Ezio out of the corner of my eyes.

I was trying my best to look out for him. I made sure he was fed and watered, I made sure none of his injuries were too severe, I made sure that he would have someone to talk to, whenever he finally decided he wanted to talk to someone, and I was always there when he needed someone to just be there. I didn't know what more I could do. Patience was key. But what if patience wasn't enough? What if Ezio ended up repressing his anger and grief and survivor's guilt until it created a horrible, dark hole inside of him that he could never overcome? What if that was something he was doing right now?

"Cheese, Ezio?"

I watched him jump slightly, startled at my unnecessarily loud question. He blinked a moment and then nodded, his face relaxing, "Thank you."

I smiled as he began to dig in, and I hurriedly followed suit after seeing just how much the man was piling onto his plate. As we ate, I talked at him until he started to talk back. We discussed grapes and trees and the sky and cheese and how cows think and feel and rats and Monteriggioni and things we could do to fix it up and how much money it would cost and then we discussed taverns and alcohol and religion and how amazing the wine we were drinking tasted and whether it was made from this same vineyard and whether grapes had family. My original plan of talking his ear off to confuse him enough to get his mind off of reality was thrown out the window as the wine went down and we got into a passionate philosophical discussion concerning fruit, emotion and what it meant to be alive.

The sun sank ever lower in the sky and I could sense the effort on both our parts to try and ignore the oncoming dark and the end of our surprisingly enjoyable picnic. Our conversation slowing as we became distracted by the increasingly visible stars, I felt incredibly content as I sat, shoulder to shoulder with the White Hood, Ezio Auditore. In this moment of deep, purely platonic friendship, I felt more at home than I had in months.

And then, that moment passed, and something in my mind shifted, and my left palm burned. My stomach dropped. Ezio's hand slid over mine. Horses screamed in the distance. The ball started rolling. The voice was back.

_It is time._


End file.
